still life in Venice

where the air’s kind of thin
       and so are the bodies


she sat knock-kneed on the stoop
her red sweater unhinging itself
loop by loop
                     day by day

wiry muscle showing through
where it isn’t supposed to be
  
facing the seawall
                        sadder than Marilyn
     busying herself in cleanliness


she ran away on September 5
                gave up a few weeks ago

she didn’t intend to suffer
she prefers to think of it as
     things don't have to be that hard


but other thoughts roll around in her head
oh, what happens in there
                           from 7 to 7 to 7


they’re all up in there  
                             we’re all down here

         bad news with no messenger to shoot