LET down your braids of hair, lady.
Cross your legs and sit before the looking-glass
And gaze long on lines under your eyes.
Life writes; men dance.
And you know how men pay women.
by Mary OliverWhen did it happen?
“It was a long time ago.”
Where did it happen?
“It was far away.”
No, tell. Where did it happen?
“In my heart.”
What is your heart doing now?
“Remembering. Remembering!”