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May 022010
 

by

Sara Henry


 

I am a muzzled menace, buried in the mire:

hatched by human hands, I hold hell

in my death-design, a dormant demon

lying paralyzed, my single purpose being

My single remorse­—it rings round

Like a wailing widow, wretched and wrecked.

Sightless and soundless, I cannot scream,

I cannot warn, I cannot whisper, “wait!”

To the blameless blood, the breathing body

which will come creaking, upon my cursed cage

ending everything. Endlessly eavesdropping,

 I wait in dreamless dread, listening for that damned

misstep, that mad mistake.