The women planted elm trees
                   packing down loose dirt
                                 with their hands
And the children hung garlands
                          white-flowered, heavy
          circling the lower branches
And they waited
        tending the fire
           fed twisted hemp to flames
        grinding acorns with stones into flour
        sleeping huddled together
                            day after day
                    through muddy rains, snow
                                          new grass
And the babies that were suckled
                  now gathered food
               and one by one
                         dirt mounds went up
                                  covering the dead
But those who hung the first garlands
          left their people in pairs
              slurring
             with pity and tense blood
The women now counted
              their waiting years
       to the last child
                and tended the fire
                     feeding twisted hemp to flames
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This poem is taken from PN Review 44, July - August 1985. The entire issue is available to paying subscribers.