Rag-doll of Kilkenny

I will not speak of where I found her bird-boned and fragile; all rag and filth she was and gazed at me with hungry eyes-- that were not fierce nor calculating, but empty as a piece of sky. It was the eyes, as they were, chilly and still blue, very round and almost popping out of her shrunken face... the loose jaw bobbing-- no voice. I swaddled her in my apron and brought her through the door. All I had was a bowl of milk still warm from the May cow. When she finished, her lashes were moist and I thought I saw the ghost of a smile before she laid by the smoking ashes, content, limbs heavy like clay; and, like clay, grew cold. 12-4-09