Poetry Daily: http://www.poems.com/

Mineral Violence


The vast sadness of my family
is an ocean rehearsing its sorrow
against the intractable night.

By light we are careful, bruised
and beautiful as script, hair tangled
from evening's beating. We stoop

to inspect the night's debris
and do not recognize black
half-hearts of shell (that are ours),

wool of kelp. The jetty's battered
knuckles count the endless waves
rolling in. Watching birds drawn

as graphite on sky, we forget
our night deaths. I do not understand
this, nor our strange thick hair, only

that I am of it. Wheat of my mother,
father's beard of bees: I am their
provided. O mineral violence

release their salt traffic, their
hovering at sea. I will exist.
Give them what they want.


Quinn Latimer

Rumored Animals
Dream Horse Press


To view this poem online, visit the Poetry Daily archive at http://www.poems.com/archive.php
View a large-print version of this poem