Friday, January 01, 2010

Often

Often there are strangers’ voices

speaking sounds not words

Often there are men in the house

their fists rising like voices

 

Nobody notices that I am gone

sleeping and eating like an animal

in the ditch curved protectively

around the house

 

And often, I have the power 

to make them disappear

simply, stealthily putting

my palms to my eyes, my ears.


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