Not seven steps from the familiar geography of her room
her bewilderment sagged on her walking frame
as she shied away from the stern arm
that was guiding her.
She cried, ‘Where are you taking me?’
in the fretting voice of a sleepy child;
and I stooped to look for her roseate smile
and saw instead, in the unerring vacancy of her face,
the scattered particulars of her life.