{when everyone had been addressed but}

the women in my head
are growing restless, pulling at the crime scenes of their bodies,
wrestling with the police line tape that binds them together like
memory or genetics. i stick my fingers in my mouth and blow, a whistle
so loud it is heard on pages five continents away. their searchlight eyes
widen as i tell them: ladies, i have had enough. today, we’re going to
do it differently. i’ll tell you what. grab a beer from the fridge. turn on
the radio too loud, open the window and dance. inflate the body bags
into balloons and set them free into the sky. put on a party hat.
remember how to laugh until your throat hurts. tell me a story that
ends “and they lived happily ever after” because this is your poem and
it’s a party and nothing bad will happen to you here. when everything
else has fallen apart, this will still stand; this is your memorial, your
sanctuary, your legacy. come on in.
         stay forever.
                 welcome.

-- Daphne Gottlieb, from "Sanctuary"