We (k)(n)ow(e)

We (k)(n)ow(e)

we could just 

walk away

we don't owe 
any one 
any thing

we don’t know

but we 


we have 
a terrible 

from time 

to time
(f)or all time


we are called

and don’t
get off easy

or easily

this is why 
the dying 
child fights

they know 
what we have learned 
to forget

So close, so far

Why is time a woman 
and man a death?

Why do we give one force a gender
and gender the other with force?

Will our willing gender upon them
lessen the bite of their skin upon ours?

Can a persona’s presence
soften the blow for even a moment

of the two things most impossibly
removed from our personhood?

Do the masks we put upon their 
faces hide their horrors from us?

Will these suppositions 
blow the wind of these days

out of the eyes of our
oldest and dearest friends,

our most constant companions, 
our dearest foes?

Will they leave us any longer by virtue 
of what does or does not dangle between their legs?

Chloe says…

One of my poems is up over at I am not a silent poet.

I don’t usually write “protest poems.” I try not to be too heavy-handed with what I write plus I’m lousy at getting anything done in a timely manor. Sometimes though, events drive me to react. Usually with anger that I have to work through. Every once in a while, something like this happens.

You should also check out all the other work over there.

Great protest poems.

Giving voice to the voiceless.

Letting the unheard have a hearing.

Poetry that says something.