For Diane Keaton
For Diane
Who will mourn
the singular woman?
The Big She with no he,
no genealogical pendants
dangling from her family line?
They say “Your art won’t warm
your bed at night. Your
professional roles won’t
cool your brow when sick.”
Don’t you worry, dear,
even in the dead of night.
We will! I assure you, we will.
We, sisters in arms,
ten thousand strong
who’ve basked in your
moonlit reflection, cried from
the rivers of emotion
you had the courage to carve,
and have born witness to you, dream:
A singular woman, fully expressed.