Genesis
M Sarki

Nothing to warrant
this place.

All there ever was
were words.

And in those words she made
whatever hole was in her face.

The loud echos in her ears.

The sounds so bifidous, and bare,
that two drums beat out a nation.
Two thousand beats that barely
left her syllables

hanging in the air.

Her son inside her head,
fit with holes around his neck
-until she laughs!

Sounding out his utterances.

1996 © 2003