Dulcinea silent like thinking of another side another her another you another me then saying I was afraid he’d get sick and David said We all have that in common not the sickness the disease the dying the I was born without this while you were born without that equality spoken in another country in another time what it was like for woman and man in this century or that as it is now in so many ways the benefits the sacrifices the discrepancies and what dreams will come inventing views wearing them out before we adopt them No it is not our bodies not even our souls our minds (though his is weak) not this we have in common what we pass in our travels unawares the delicate tastes of our eyes becoming feeble with age to say I see signs while you see what’s built by Man and Nature’s design a humble tree or brick by brick cornerstones of an edification by some architect what you notice now that you never noticed before though you’ve passed this way many times and we say We this our common ground truths held self-evident yet all poised with pretensions yes but Solomon and Dulcinea her breasts aching with milk thinking conveying not her words but Abraham’s Fear her father said There is no fear in Love

And this is the day

Dulcinea: But I am afraid I see what was and I remember a woman must rest just as artists do
David: Give as it has been given to you How else would I have spent the 6th of June
Dulcinea: He will not eat He will not eat of it
David: Maybe he waits He waits for another Sunday
Dulcinea: Yes but Who possesses these words
David: It is Solomon and He who feeds from you In hunger and in nausea

Now it is night

You hear the Sabine. A boy of nine resting cold against a tree or what’s left of it what’s burned and charred and jagged like a staunch shadow over him in the moonlight for there is a moon this night and no tears no blood of all that remains. He is holding it. A Cracker Jack box–uneaten. Opened months before the day David gave him a guitar. In summer his birthday. The box has expired but what he holds in his other hand hasn’t. And with fist closed he opens his hand palm up a ring shimmering incandescent to the moon’s glare.

Far off a fish jumps the water shimmering in translucent scales. You hear it on the rocks.

“Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman”

September 6th, 1981

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest…
Happy Labor Day!

Is it time? Abe asks. Is it time, Momma?
Have you done your chores?
Then yes. You can go fishin’… but you gotta take Solomon with ya