(for my sisters)
Standing here
in the glistening grass
a new morning is breaking
over this potter’s field*
Thoughts and words
flutter like ghostly birds
flying out of ancient trees
And I say to myself
It is unmarked
and well it should be-
because over space and time
naked screaming still penetrates
bloody pleading still stains
and your acidic semen still burns
And I say to myself
It is unmarked
and well it should be-
because it is enough
to know that you – a piece of
malignant evil –
are somewhere here
underneath my feet
And I say to myself
It is unmarked
and well it should be-
because anonymous
molestation from worms
isn’t enough justice
for you and your
childhood stealing ass
*Potter’s Field: a field of unmarked graves, so named because of the field Judas Iscariot was buried in.
Photo: © Julie Anderson All Rights Reserved
