At first her hands went up to shield her eyes Her sharp gasp sculpture her heart.

At first her hands went up to shield her eyes

Her sharp gasp sculpture her heart. She could not look

into that face: the purple weltered stains

beneath the skin; the torn lips black with dirt

and descendants the lips that as a child kissed

her cheek; those eyes! Behind the swollen lids

those clear, warm organ of sights she loved denied the tortured

face and drew her by the agency of the crowd until

her hands reached on the outside her fingers stretched and ached

to touch, caress, that face. Amid the din

surrounding them, a grace of silence filled

their distant gaze. The torn lips smiled sadly

at her as He revolveed away. A grey

shape roughly shov her back into the crowd

C DAHL?‰N*

...

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