13
in your breaths the ether of belonging.
having forgotten the labor of conceiving,
picking the right things to say, I should be
happy but all the feelings have left along
with new life. no doubt my future self will
kick my present but I forgot how to care.
the years will slip through like summer silks,
no rings, just decay rising from the earth
dust to clay people. I miscalculated the
momentousness of the beginning in favor
of the ending, but to be bankrupt is
not so hard.
Willem Claesz Heda, 1635
"Banquet Piece with Mince Pie"
"Jephthah's daughter bewailing her sacrifice."