(no subject)

[apiphile]

please don't talk to me about cycles

sometimes i think (i try not to, but i do)
of those men who died on the battlefield,
with their fists shoved into their mouths
to stifle their dying moans,
so no one would be killed
trying to save them.

what certainty in the goodness of your friends and comrades
to know that they will come at the sound of your screaming
as you would have for them;
we say, this shows the best of humanity,
quite forgetting why these men were dying
in the first place.

sometimes i think (i try not to, but i do)
of the silences of graveyards
and which headstones are so often smashed
that the families are advised to take out insurance;
i think of the way my boyfriend tenses up
whenever a dark-skinned man does something unexpected;
i think of the way a specific intonation of words
moves me to thoughts of violence.

most of all i think of all the times
i screamed with no fist in my mouth,
and the only answer
was laughter.