Job (War Survivor’s Guilt)
and in the denial of the words. i know how as latex-wrapped
fingers press close to see inside grandmother will press lips
tight together. grandmother will press sickness sounds down
deep deep down. to push back the rising of aunt’s voice
throat cut bled out by latex-gloved hands back home in
Amin’s war until the sounding rings out in tiny brown bead
shapes rung round brown skin. and grandmother will press
fingers soft to one, all. a silent hail mary, a silent grace.
Hope Wabuke's poem appears in Issue 34: Keeping things Whole.
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