Among the patches—
Among the patches on my household drape,
Match a mass of facts.
Facts of colors and black and white.
In tatters from—
In tatters from some savage hands.
Spoiling at the callous mouth.
Heaving, some bayonet rips a worth.
Once in a near perfect link.
Once in a near perfect quilt.
Grieving, I see a funeral of love.
The hurt is here like a lark.