The last poem, which it covers pages 250 to 300,
has the title "There She Was."
And you might remember that that's the last sentence of Mrs
Dalloway.
Mrs. Dalloway's first name's Clarissa.
Someone says, "Where's Clarissa?
There she was."
So this is called "There She Was."
The house stood.
The cars were standing.
She was walking over to the dog, which had to be remembered.
"Shake hands," she said.
He straightened, bent, straightened.
His manner was irreproachable, that being with a tail.
It was extraordinary, life was, furs being petted,
people standing upright, panic, fear, tight skirts, ankles,
thought.
The creature standing, her giving little pats,
she was enjoying standing there.
She had forgotten this feeling, ordinary things, curtains,
biscuits, bones, a creature raising one foreleg,
the movies.
She stood looking as if she would solidify,
Darwin draped in black, remembering the flora or fauna.
Of course, she would really only be remembering a garden, trees,
wallpaper, a sea lion barking, a doctor of misery
on the verge of difficulty, a boy gone, death,
death without life, terror, fear, disaster, punishment,
profound darkness, evening.
She walked to the window, sky, clouds coming into the room.
How odd, she thought, to be.