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The Welsh poet

The Welsh poet
said of his mother
who “left the world”
last week
“She was never dead
in or out of it.”
He shows me a beautiful Indian bird
red with yellow dots on it:
Happiness.      Beauty.     Art.
—That bird seems to like you.
—Yes, that bird knows
there’s not much time.
The mother has a gold body now.

Door in the Mountain: New & Collected Poems