This is a little kind of partial portrait poem.
It's called "Too Much to Hope."
"Twisted body and white-socked deformed legs,
evidently too hard to get stockings
on, and little, booted, braced feet,
swinging along beside the crutches
and under the huge wing-like shoulders.
Always the tap and creak and tap and creak of crutch
and brace, in effort always, and whir of wings
revving up and not getting the human female botched body
off the ground.
The sound never letting up, no hushed pinewoods
walk, no slipping unseen through lakes of shadow.
Has she some blessed deafness given along with starved bones?
It seems too much to hope."
[APPLAUSE]