sister poem

we break the glass whose sacred wine
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
over the river, on the hill
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
there is no flock, however watched and tended
i made a vow once, one only
splendid and terrible your love
through the broad earth's aching breast
do i like it
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
friend, whose smile has come to be
one with you
they ask me where i've been