seeing that miner’s daughter
with a plug in her thigh
she balanced on the bone cane
wound seeping thru her tourniquet
since she got hit in the unarmed protest
by a pinkerman’s slug
and I wondered what sheds she’d tread through
toe main poison
in the snake’s eyes behind the eve like pennants
the house where the saints fled
domestic abuse, they say another pale moon
the neighbors never raise their voices
and the gnats never sleep never hear
it makes me sad and down to see
what is called belly ache all you want
the rare moment felt to be in its absence now
fading, or never fading
them places of greatest sorrow
this true place you live in
you can’t find on the map