"Great storms shook Old Master's house several times in a week.
The land shone, then incessant, bright, and awful--
we thought the spirits of our dead mothers
had finally crossed the sea.
Old Master's babies died as great storms shook his house.
Dishes broke.
Drawers opened.
We watched our dead mothers pull out
baby clothes-- incessant, bright,
and awful, we thought as they shredded with their wet hands
the lace bibs Old Master's wife had
stitched while great storms shook the house.
Then Old Master's wife ordered us to rip the stays
from her gowns.
She walked incessant, bright, and awful.
We thought she'd walk into the earth.
We had to feed her babies with our milk
before they died incessant, bright, and awful.
The land shone on the great house.
Our dead swarmed."