The Woman That Was Well
She carried no Fever — in her Cheek —
No Scarlet in her Breath —
Her Pulse was civil — as the Clock —
That tidily counts Death —
The Kitchens knew her gentle Hand —
The Spoon — obedient — stirred —
The Custard kept its secret sweet —
The Ice — no Warning — heard —
They named her not for what she was —
But for what followed near —
A Phantom riding in her wake —
A whispered Atmosphere —
She felt no Thorn within her Blood —
No Ash upon her Tongue —
Yet Houses folded — one by one —
Where once her Apron hung —
O Woman — Well — yet feared as Plague —
How silent is the Crime —
To harbor what one does not feel —
And answer — still — for Time —
An Island kept her like a Thought
The City would not claim —
North Brother held her solitude —
And History — her name —
Was she a Vessel — unaware —
Or Willful with her Art?
The Science spoke of unseen Germs —
The Law — of Public Heart —
Between the Body and the State —
She stood — without a plea —
The Woman who was always Well —
Yet never — could be — Free —
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