The truth bares its bone of bones and trade
they’d trade their spirits for red wine- roses picked clean.
mother began to sing, “Nobody Knows the trouble I’ve seen,
She’d given birth to many of Nobody things- whose arms are those -she holds the pieces of missing girls, whose legs are these – she maps a journey- underground, wild-child, indigo, negro, brown, white girl, Latino – all the hurt is the same
Whose breast are these, whose lips, whose eyes?
one helped a man find a dog,
she never came back,
one on the playground in the schoolyard
one holds the riddle, thousands of men to ban abortion
Mother had forgotten – her body, her prayers, her arms, her legs
whose blood is this? Kindness sis Krissy
A Poet's Vision 