Temple at Quan Loi, 1969

Kevin Bowen

Outside the gate
the old woman
walks up the hill
from the temple.
Her pace
deliberate as a procession.
From the corner of an eye
she stares.
She must wish our deaths.
Beneath the white silk band
breasts ache for a husband.
She passes in the mourning,
counting each step.
Her prayers rain down like rockets.