Rehab's Words

I don’t know her age, and I will never meet her, and if I did, I would probably not tell her that she is a poet, only because, that would be the absolute least of her concerns, having lost everything.

All these children who have lost their mothers, have lost everything.

James Elder reads Rehab’s words here, at the end.

I heard them, and they stayed in my mind for the next 24 hours, and were again on my mind this morning when I woke up, and again now.

---

They killed my mother.

I used to be beautiful. 

Now I cannot wash;

What do you want me to say?

--Rehab

They killed my mother.

I used to be beautiful.

Now I cannot wash.

What do you want me to say?

—Rehab

Poetry Knowers

There are guardians of poetry, as there are guardians of everything. They have conferences, grants, journals and panel discussions, to discuss what poetry is or is not.

I would be so curious how many of them would stop cold in the corridor upon hearing those four lines from a little girl, not trying to write poetry.

Would they say: “Wait— Read that again!”

Would they arrange an entire panel around the interval, the leap, between line 1 and line 2?