Very soft and not noticeable

And all the people ran away,

the women holding bunches of lilacs,

the men holding the women.

And in the back

a woman wept, smiling,

and would cry herself to sleep

through bunches of lilacs,

and men, where there is only a flame.

I’ve stood at my window all day.

All day, the corners of the window.

The paint on the wall.

And I have always been lonely

among mothers

and other strangers.