Marta we found the little box that one morning she buried in the sand, in the garden, in the keyboard, marta an unfinished human figure carries what remains of her accent, but she always asked facing a window pane, but we weren't there and the dress fell to the asphalt marta there was a mark from scarlet fever where the chest begins, the double justice, the double cage, the feathered mother we leave. Used by permission of Story Line Press. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK; A.D. 1200 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH OUR PASSWORD by ISIDORE G. ASCHER THE PILGRIM SHIP by KATHARINE LEE BATES ROMANCE OF DUNOIS by HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS LOVE'S ARROW POISONED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES VOID IN LAW by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |