it's late, too late for this

she

comes to me

in the night, knocking hard

at the door,

i see her

on porch from my window,

a kerchief around

her head,

she looks wounded

and scared.

it has

to be terrible news.

what other reason

would there be for this

intrusion.

it can't be good news,

it can't be joy,

or

happiness

that she brings at this

late hour.

she's holding a baby in

her arms.

which makes even worse.