Thank you. Thank you all. When I woke up this morning, I was afraid as I am most mornings when I wake up and then I thought, no, what we're doing tonight is preparing each one of us for action, for the good that we are, that it has to do with the fighting for the honor of learning to read and write and practicing and encouraging others to practice, making it more possible to read what we want to read and to write what we can write and then I wasn't afraid and I'm very honored to be here with my beloved colleagues tonight. And I just thought that before I read my poem, I would show that I re-wrote it a little since it was in my book because I read it at a reading and there was something wrong with it, something in the beginning especially and I think I fixed it. And later I found that I had taken out four adjectives. These were adjectives of adjuuational description of kind of luxuries things and I also took out an adverb and I changed it now. So I'm very, I'm not afraid, I'm going to read this poem called, this poem called Quarantine. Many of the poems in this book were written during two years when I was alone in a house in the woods, with the spirit company of many beloved friends, Quarantine. When I left the city for the house in the woods, I got to know the room where I sat on the bed all day and looked through its foot at the fireplace under the beveled mantle where the oval mirror was balanced vertical. Sometimes a brass ball cast a bent spear of sun onto the glass which bounced off fish hook onto the ceiling. Outside the window, the black oil, seed, silos dangled like the bars of a score, the song notes in a darting frenzy around them. Alt swear, people sick and and die, Alt swear, people starve and thirst and hide by dawn and walk by evening and perished and their parents perish. I tried to hide from knowing that. I sent money, I sent for a cotton dress for the hot weather, for the eating and drinking and writing, describing the luxuries of my vantage point in plenty and safety. I do not give enough and my taxes are spent by the orange cacquatou in the white man housed on bailing out bankers. Okay, spend the rest of the day sending money to the hungry, pay back a tithe of what generations of my family stole. I am of a people of these and beaters of children. I was not beaten because of my race, but because I belonged to my mother and I was a girl and a child and obedient. I mean sane. I never thought of saying no to her until I was a head taller than my mother and I did not deserve to be beaten, but now I see it. I have not ever in my life been beaten outside my gender or my family or my color. I have never been beaten outside my gender or my age. I have never been beaten outside my gender or my age. I have never been beaten outside my gender or my age. I have never been beaten outside my gender or my age.