Somehow, we’ve inched along
under the heavy layers, allowed them
to obliterate the hot knob of what was
or might have been …
Try to imagine the three naked
porcelain boys cavorting on the lamp
from her celebrated view.
So it’s true that the mind conflates the horror
of one moment with whatever comes next,
that one could walk away from a showing
of crumpled bodies in a white and well-lit
gallery only to recoil from the partial view …