are you amy?

it's a weekend of poetry
of course, you come too--
what did you do, say,
tell me? when you thought
this might be the last
moment with your granddaughter?
you knew julie, too--
why no poem for her?

are you amy? born just
as you were buried?
i
stay in the assignment:
an image:

i remember the blue dress
on the doll--the strange
shaped teeth, the eyes
that flapped open and closed
the ringlets of the reddish
hair--the strange covering
of things--the white cloth
body--not white--
aged cloth--even then
as creme like--
yellowed--as this
page of yours i write on.