Last one.
"Limbo Babies," this one.
"The limbo babies have once again made an appearance,
and Sister Mary Frances claims to be sympathetic,
even as she instructs us.
Poor little things, she says, and do we believe her?
Some nice slanted stream of light cascades
across her black habit.
Its folds unfold and fold again, as she moves with a ruler,
with a piece of chalk and eraser.
She moves to the board, then to the door,
with its chicken wire embedded in glass.
She moves in and out of the light,
in and out of the dust and the light, and we do believe her.
The limbo babies cannot be saved,
and though we despise her, we believe her.