What stays massed in the mind
are instructions: render the fat
reuse the tea; save, sure of the reason.
More than fear's nick, this was dread:
hardened, and solid as lard. Grudges
were holstered or held
to the light, the milkweed of them dispelled.
The sponge was wrung for its last.
We went together, washed and chagrined
to wait for the cans, contents unknown.
Intent and covetous, rent with twitches,
we opened them, lit by our hunger.
Complaints disappeared in our mouths.
We went together at midday, at dusk,
to seize the fuel, to seize the flour,
as some mother went weeping
against the wall
to seize the milk which was ours.
When grass, like the back of an old dog,