“Poem”
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The only response
to a child’s grave is
to lie down before it and play dead
“After the Burial”
After the burial I alone stood by till 2 workmen came to shovel the dirt back into the hole. There was some left over, the dirt she’d displaced, and they wheeled it off. Drawn, not knowing why, I followed at a distance. Coming to a small backlot, they dumped it, then left. I walked over. It made a small mound. And all around her, similar mounds. Pure cones of joy! First gifts from the dead! I fell to my knees before it, and fell forward on my hands into it… to the elbows, like washwater… For the first time, I became empty enough to cry for her.
“Death”
Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest.
They will place my hands like this.
______________________________
From The Naomi Poems: Corpse and Beans. Copyright © 2024 by the Estate of Bill Knott. Reprinted by permission of Black Ocean.
