In the beginning a few
said it didn’t matter.

Among hells they’d choose the Italian one:
practiced inefficiency, great food,

green lizards hanging
like little minotaurs on the walls.

The perfect rotors of maple seeds
lend the possibility of a forest

and there is a certain elegance
in possibility, like a chess match.

It had been noticed
the company she kept:

Jewish artists and intellectuals.
Certain “friends” mentioned their concern

for her health. It was certain
she could be saved. It was spring,

almond trees blooming, the pines of Rome
still towered over eternity.