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Violence

A poem about a woman seduced during war events. She has an ambivalent relationship with her child who was born as a consequence of this rape. The lack of trace makes more emphatic the brute fact of violence. Maybe she has killed her child just now. Her murder has no trace, either. Poem is quickening, as violence is continuing to accumulate.

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Done

What a torture you are!
Irritating presence!
I’ve been gathering you long.

Being done for
I didn’t know how to be through with you.
To get along.

I’ve been canned.
Parts kept apart.
Belong is a must. I don’t belong.

Irritating like a baby.
I’ve never waited for you.
I’ve never asked your presence.

I haven’t even known of you.
Son of mine, your vicious, vicious –
There was no trace of violence.

 

 

Mis-

He asked about my favourite scent.
Then left.
Now I’m singing, being

misgivingly polite,
for him a rest.
Silence. All the motions inside.

Seduced, suspended. There is
no way out. My own dark powers arrest.
Slowly growing killing cells

retaliate: retell
each word. Every gesture.
Never never never ends,

not even after my death.
Singing another – me – at best?
Better than a lover left.

Each word is some taking the hook.
I misunderstand to be
misunderstood.

 

First published in Women in War (anthology).

Artists Statement

However the most elementary right of us is ‘the right to life’, this right is the most often affronted one…Just like our right to human dignity…

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