The poem's called "The Fountain".
An old woman from the country, who sells tickets for sex
shows and looks at the buyers faces,
gave a party in her kitchen for her family and their friends,
many of whom she did not even know.
And she served everybody yellow cake and meringue
made from her own eggs, as she told the company more
than once.
And no bag feed, she said, she fed them on.
Oh, yes, you do, grandma, said the small boy
whose bed was in the corner.
Look, she said, and opened the back door
to show the hens in the evening light,
scratching around the fountain.