Joan Hutton Landis

For Ann Forsythe Irwin Bourgois Remembering Ann Whose beauty began At the crown of her head And ran to the deep underneath Of her feet— Never aware of her own élan. Now, half mad with pain, She crawls through her rooms, Calling for doctors, Falling, Forgetting, Consumed, Trepanned. Ever since the world began— Star fall Nightfall Bomb fall Downfall... Read the scan: Every woman and every man, Once a flowered Palestine, Falls blindly toward the Nakba— Bald catastrophe, Prescription— According to the Plan.