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...THE MEMORY OF MARTHA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR VITAI LAMPADA by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID by MATTHEW PRIOR MONODY ON THE ASTOR HOUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A GIRL'S SONG IN THE WILDERNESS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. A GLIMPSE by EDWARD CARPENTER |