I watched the big man fall from my room.

He had lost his shirt to the humid air,
and without it, the warm ground,
like a surgeon,
touched him directly.

His small daughter walked limbly
by his side, and
turning at the tumble
hiccuped with cries cries at the sight

And on the hot iron-gray street,
the freckled man beat her like a drum.
And her little body rung with the blows
hollow and echo like the barrel of a gun.