Mark Lee Webb

M a r k   L e e   W e b b

Visiting Day

    —after Ezra Pound

The front lawn is filled

with neurotic mothers

and their psychotic sons.

And their daughters, who

wear silk scarfs

gauze veilsover ligature

marks from short-term

stays twenty years ago.

The fathers stare down at

the ground, kick the dirt

with their boots, carry

their burdens home.

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