eva peron
....died and embalmers
rushed in as her last breath
hung like confetti in the air,
hair stylists waited, combs
poised; flutes may have played
low, adagio as she went
quietly from the house
and hundreds of dresses
ruffled softly in her
closets where luggage sat
where hats waited, where shoes
stood empty all together.
and outside now the people came
and kept coming, in groups
in waves, like fish
down the stream they came,
grieving, for days shouting,
now big with it
those that loved you, 'whore', 'goddess'
aphrodite of the argentines,
knowing, sure; beautiful still
at the hospital bed as you
vote for peron: a good wife,
fainting at inaugurations,
blond, ghost-like
cancer in your womb
like punishment for too much
power, for alarming the military --
or like favor, an exit,
not to see your billboards
burned, your statues lopped off,
your children's' palaces in heaps,
your body
stolen very early one morning,
from your enemies kept whole:
madrid,
lot eighty-six,
grave forty-one,
'maria.'
suzanne finnamore
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