The children keep bristling
like a cornered porcupine,
happy to point, complain,
run to the playground teacher,
they all righteous and aglow.
Whole peoples nurse
their grievances, and she, too,
remembering every slight
since childhood, fingering
hard and inedible berries
over and over. They are dried
beyond the escape of rot
and disintegration. The people’s
aggrieved histories are not theirs,
exactly, but are appropriated
from their dead. These tales
have a bitter sheen like a highly
polished and poisoned apple,
a temptation. This is how
we push death back. We are too
angry to recognize her on the road.
We demand compensation
before we die. We are in no
mood to bargain with her.
Carol Hamilton
Carol Hamilton has recent publications in San Pedro River Review, Dryland, Pinyon, Commonweal, Southwestern American Literature, Pour Vida, Adirondack Review, The Maynard, The Sea Letter, Tiny Spoon, U.S.1 Worksheet, Broad River Review, Fire Poetry Review, Homestead Review, Shot Glass Journal, Poem, Haight Ashbury Poetry Journal, Sandy River Review, I-70 Review, Blue Unicorn, former people Journal, Poetica Review, Zingara Review, Broad River Review, Abbey and others. She has published 17 books: children’s novels, legends and poetry. She is a former Poet Laureate of Oklahoma.
Artwork: Natalia Drepina
Website: https://www.deviantart.com/nataliadrepina
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