Old men on fourth-story balconies stare down at me,
Children pass by playing ball.
A mother takes in her plain tablecloth, frowning.
I will die
If before nightfall no one touches me.
There is a hospital in this town called Gli Incurabili,
They will take me there and lay me down on the bed like an ivory blade.
I will be pure as a virgin offering empty hands to Christ
And the world will throb beneath me like sea’s blue beneath its white.
from You Darling Thing Find more by Monica Ferrell at the library
Copyright © 2018 Monica Ferrell
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.