To Explain the Solitary
It's easy to think a moor or heath
or penury or a a strain
of madness in the family could explain
the solitary, but there are daily
reports of people overriding
the most exotic restraints
to become ordinary. The armless woman
uses her toes to woodburn kittens.
The blind man demonstrates vacuums
and sells lots of them, as convinced
of lint as the next person. Shall I go on?
At the extremities, the furthest Galápago
or worst prison teases all the ordinary
occupations
from a few birds blown wrong. There is no place
where most people don't adjust. Amherst
didn't cure Miss Dickinson
or Ireland hurt Mr. Yeats into song.