Miracle Ice Cream

　　by Adrienne Rich

　　 Miracle's truck comes down the little avenue，

　　 Scott Joplin ragtime strewn behind it like pearls，

　　 and， yes， you can feel happy

　　 with one piece of your heart.

　　 Take what's still given： in a room's rich shadow

　　 a woman's breasts swinging lightly as she bends.

　　 Early now the pearl of dusk dissolves.

　　 Late， you sit weighing the evening news，

　　 fast-food miracles， ghostly revolutions，

　　 the rest of your heart.