She sits at dinner

proud and sure

of a life she never

owned, and then

in response to the horizon

as if someone had painted it

just for her, she rises,

wraps her black shawl

around her bare shoulders,

tiptoes down the stairs

to the beach where she can be alone

and watch the moon

meet the ocean,  only to rise

one more time on the other side

of the world,  as little children

skip rope and politicians

declare war in spite of all

the vulgar votes against them