The women don’t argue

nor move with any speed.

I am glad of a task. In motion

I barely notice the blood.

I send the young ones

to check the stables,

saddle any horses

the soldiers haven’t stolen.

If there is one bit of grace

there’ll be a nag

to carry old Matilde.

Betsy and Zahra

will find makeshift cloaks

in blankets, table linens

anything to keep us warm.

Whatever they find

in these quarters below

for I will not send them

to the morgue upstairs.

That leaves me

to find provisions.