They took dead men's soulsIt was the middle of the night...
And pinned them on their breasts for ornament;
Their cuff-links and tiaras
Were gems dug from a grave;
They were ghouls battening on exhumed thoughts;
And I took a green liqueur from a servant
So that he might come near me
And give me the comfort of a living thing.
- Amy Lowell (1874 – 1925)
...or perhaps early morning, before dawn.
I heard her voice as clearly as if she were in the room with me.
“Estan vendiendo mis joyas... / They are selling my jewels...”
It was not the first time I received messages from the dead.
It was not the first time her adult children betrayed her.
