Lillie of the field, toe-tipping through the bedpans
to the sound of one man napping,
one man napping on eiderdown fluff,
dreaming of fluff and stuff and Lillie
with her white stockings pulled down,
pulled off and giving him a sponge bath,
bathing him, bending over, wetting her hair,
using her hair to bathe him, damp and white,
white and damp white like Easter lillies.
Lillie, so able,
she can turn him still asleep, change his sheets.
Lillie, so able,
she can tuck his last good hope into his pajamas
without it bending, bowing good-bye.
we listen to the sound of one man dreaming,
of crepe soles slipping away on clean tile floors.
in this pause, the final shot is fired,
pale flower blooming on starched muslin,
daisy in the barrel of a guardsman's gun.