Johanna
Sorrow did you follow me
outside. I thought you’d
like to stay indoors awhile.
I know you: a Roman copy
but you’ve the look and feel
impenetrable marble of the real
thing itself. Sorrow won’t you
stand with hands where I can
see before you lay them on me.
Your touch like the tap
on my childhood head,
when someone says, Get up get up,
it’s time for you to run.
