TWO POEMS
Agency
Voices in the yellowish field of my mind clamoring:
violence upon violence upon violence Once upon
a slaughter … A daughter hadn’t a voice
in the matter Her wishes whisked away
on stretchers in sacks rattletrap
skullish pebbles
Some children are buried
without arms or legs or heads
in the hedges in my head
Their death agreed-upon Who agreed to these
disembodied numbers
unswept human-particles A daughter walks steadily through glass
Violence in the field of my yellowish grey mindmy voice a little chilly removed The daughter’shands numb folded as two dead birds in their speckled wingsI can’t keep her or her hands humanin this poem This poem can’t keep herin mind as other She must be some commingled me
