This morning,
Bored and bleary,
Reading the back
Of a Dr. Bronner's bottle,
I remembered—
Doing that weird
Donkey-stomp you do
When epiphany-pricked—
In other places,
They had to put out
An interstate call
For manpower
To handle the autopsies.
On Hart Island,
They have close to
A million dead,
Under the only lintels
They've ever…