Announcing my innocence is important to me,
she says with a pale face, wheat coat and handbag,
where, she says, she wants to say something positive,
after a police car turns the corner near two dressed
deer hanging from their hind legs, as much stunned
by death as once alive – while the man at the corner
imagines evil, pointedly spits out a slur, then yells at
the baby playing in the yard to come inside
– while we all listen for bells – from antique fire
engines, schools at 10:15 a.m., towers, belfries –
to hear bells ringing, as cast from copper or handheld,
even, with wooden handles, sounding out to ourselves
through the fog, as you and I bend to each other
and affirm that the ringing and the hearing of them
are thought to be in themselves something positive.