The Loba Longs For Remembrance in the Bardo by Diane Di Prima
Shall we say that the streets were littered
w/ half-eaten food
dry leaves, debris of plastic & paper
Shall we remember the half-mad whores
who walked on them
Eyes black as Egypt: al-Khem
of that night?
recall the quarter moons of that era
the hopelessness of the wind
that flew out of Dead Center to its
target in our hearts
What shall we keep of the hard shells
of our hands
the cloven claws held out to beg
to keep what ran like sand?
Shall we able to name the skeletons
ostrich & pachyderm
Who will remember the bleakness of this time?
Who will recall it, later?