Four Feet Above Her Head

Four feet above her head the ceiling, white
And stippled with those dark uneven dots,
Concealed the sun, the moon, the chimney pots,
The face of Ra, the Sun God, by whose might
The day begins again after the night
Descends, four feet above her head; the knots
She finds in her dark hair, the bloody spots
She thinks about now — nothing turns out right.

She thinks about her life, her heart, her bed,
The darkness. In the sky, some old stars glow
The same as they were doing long ago,
But everything grows old now. Tears she shed
Dimmed what she saw. Four feet above her head
The clamour passed, the wilting stars hung low.