This could be my little
book about love
if I wrote it—
but my good demon said:
“Lay off documents!”
Everybody was watching me
burn my books—
I swung my liberty torch
happy as a gestapo brute;
the only thing I wanted to save
was a scar
a burn or two—
but my good demon said:
“Lay off documents!
The fire’s not important!”
The pile was safely blazing.
I went home to take a bath.
I phoned my grandmother.
She is suffering from arthritis.
“Keep well,” I said, “don’t mind the pain.”
“You neither,” she said.
Hours later I wondered
did she mean
don’t mind my pain
or don’t mind her pain?
Whereupon my good demon said:
“Is that all you can do?”
Well was it?
Was it all I could do?
There was the old lady
eating alone, thinking about
Prince Albert, Flanders Field,
Kishenev, her fingers too sore
for TV knobs;
but how could I get there ?
The books were gone
my address lists—
My good demon said again:
“Lay off documents!
You know how to get there!”
And suddenly I did!
I remembered it from memory!
I found her
pouring over the royal family tree,
“Grandma,”
I almost said,
“you’ve got it upside down—”
“Take a look,” she said,
“it only goes to George V.”
“That’s far enough
you sweet old blood!”
“You’re right!” she sang
and burned the
London Illustrated Souvenir
I did not understand
the day it was
till I looked outside
and saw a fire in every
window on the street
and crowds of humans
crazy to talk
and cats and dogs and birds
smiling at each other!