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. 

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