Daniel Lawless

Was a cubit long and weighed half as much as an average newborn U.S. baby.

Who sold it to her remains a matter of police conjecture, a "collector," most likely, or a friend in need

Of cash; no receipt ever surfaced. What she did between the time she got it and the act

Adds little to the picture: coffee at McDonalds, a few words exchanged with a balding man in an army

Jacket outside the 7-11 on Broadway, no phone calls, no letter. When my mother got the

News she was hanging sheets to dry on the backyard clothes line; neighbors heard her

Cry two blocks over and thought a cat had died. (Where, exactly, Father spent that afternoon: c.f

Conjecture.) How Irish-pretty she was, pale, petite, kind, smart and slyly funny are duly noted now on

Her birthday, in photographs and little tales that end in tears that end in silence: we the cage

And Rilke's panther pacing there, a thousand bars and beyond the bars no world but why.