Anti-Elegy
She was:
33, bullet.
35, bullet.
20, bullet.
25, stabbed to death & run over by a car.
66 blade.
22 bullet.
17 fist.
36 blade.
blade.
blade.
bullet.
bullet.
bullet
stone
found dead in a field
overdose
bullet
unknown
rope
stone
stone
bullet
oncoming traffic
his own good hands…
…
& it becomes a kind of music, doesn’t it?
Senseless litany, field of roses, blood red
upturned skirts. I open my mouth & here,
the pith of me. Here, a flock of names, a girl
spilling out onto the street.
…
The trouble with elegy
is that it asks the dead
to live, it calls them back.
& who am I to say rise?
Walk again among those
who could not bear
the sight of you? Your body.
Your one good dress.
Today, someone will walk into the night
& then become it. Someone’s heart
will crowd with beloved ghosts
& who am I to say, dance
with me here a little longer? Never mind
the bloodshed darling, never mind.
Never mind.
…
Once, a man said mine
& a woman became an empty room.
Once, a man said mine
& the ocean split & the endless passage.
Once, a man said mine
& there’s a genocide –
how strange. To make the world
with language. To wield desire
as a weapon. To watch one nation burn
& another rise up at your feet.
Once, a girl looked in the mirror
& called herself, said my name is
said I am / I am & a man said
mine / mine / mine
…
I have so many questions:
Who are
What does
Why
How does it feel to
I’m sorry, I just think
I
And, define
I’m sorry
Your anger
You’re afraid of
Can fear be
Define
knife
Define
Fear is
Please
Forgive
me
