Molded in verdigris
Shortly before she died
The Lady stands by herself,
Her electrical hand on fire.
They too in the Harbor
That chops the light to pieces
Looked up at her hand, burning.
Hair, flesh, blood, bone.
They floated in at night
On black water, cargoes
Which may not go back, waves
Breaking the rocks they break on.
From Collected Poems by Galway Kinnell. Copyright © 2017 by The Literary Estate of Galway Kinnell. Used by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. All rights reserved.