Originally published in Split This Rock.
I can write a poem
to the limbs of a grandmother
seeded in a scorched field
where her house stood
before the drone
I can write as her left arm singing
to its hand
Calm now, she’s gone
Some man
I’m almost certain
it’s a man
can write a memo
about this field
left foot tapping impatiently
His memo isn’t a poem
but who said it had to be
-Kevin Simmonds
Originally published in Bend to It. Used by permission.