I read the poetry
of the poet at a young age,
judging the poet as I imagine
the young Sylvia Plath must have
looked out on the world,
presenting herself in self-portraits,
or Emily Dickinson in real life
only publishing about 10 poems
of her many volumes unpublished
who is she,
the look of nobody in short hair,
and Jeanne Hebutene, who
leaped to her death
from a high window
upon hearing of modi’s
demise, from the painting
of an artist.