On Wednesday, I ate plain yogurt.
!50!Opened a notebook. Vivaldi
as I folded my laundry.
It was his birthday. On Wednesday,
!50!it rained. On the succulents,
on the surviving women.
Tricked or taken, carted to Japanese soldiers.
!50!The condom said, Attack Number One.
It was rinsed for reuse. On Wednesday,
I listened to The Four Seasons.
!50!It stopped raining. It never stopped
raining. On Wednesdays, it rains
for the children they bore. For the children
!50!they could not bear. For the children
they were. Give them this day. Give them
Vivaldi, violin, give them the all-girls choir.
!50!L’inverno, come and gone. All four seasons,
come and gone. On Wednesday,
nothing happened. Rain evaporated,
!50!and so did the concertos.
Wednesdays ago, the women,
the girls, clutched each other. Who will live,
!50!who will leave, who believes this life.
The world will be better after you and me.