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brynn-champneyPoems
Claude spreads the legs of his first girlfriend and Recognizes the in-between From his sister’s. She was seventeen and silent; He, six and sobbing, Pushing the bamboo deeper After The men who ate Dinner with his father The week before Told him to. They said he had to **** her; said He was a Tutsi, and limp, and finally, “Farther!” She was wet with blood and he with tears Crouched down in the grass. At twenty-one, Claude hovers above His first love With closed eyes and dry cheeks. She is wet, with want, and Whimpering. Not from A stick’s broken branches, Or twelve men Holding her knees apart “Showing a cockroach how it’s done,” One by one Ants crawling toward her blood. Claude hears her closed-lip whimpers, Says how much he’ll always love her, and Cannot come.
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Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
Infinite Genocide
Claude spreads the legs of his first girlfriend and Recognizes the in-between From his sister’s. She was seventeen and silent; He, six and sobbing, Pushing the bamboo deeper After The men who ate Dinner with his father The week before Told him to. They said he had to **** her; said He was a Tutsi, and limp, and finally, “Farther!” She was wet with blood and he with tears Crouched down in the grass. At twenty-one, Claude hovers above His first love With closed eyes and dry cheeks. She is wet, with want, and Whimpering. Not from A stick’s broken branches, Or twelve men Holding her knees apart “Showing a cockroach how it’s done,” One by one Ants crawling toward her blood. Claude hears her closed-lip whimpers, Says how much he’ll always love her, and Cannot come.
2nd place, Society for Humanistic Anthropology's 2009 Ethnographic Poetry Contest Publication: c. 2009 Jon Wiley & Sons, in Anthropology & Humanism, Vol. 34, Issue 2
Written by
brynn-champney
American
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
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