Later
flowered cups she drinks
her tea from
echo in her summer
dresses
she is an old woman
contemplating
unlaced shoes
memory all around her
like the river of that vein
in one thin hand
against a powdered cheek
behind a cedar door
she feels compelled to organize
the souvenir of wardrobe
(her closet
dark
with flowered cloth)
she understands the fabrics
of identity
and reaches for her pen again
the document survives for years
