There She Is

By Linda Gregg b. 1942 Linda Gregg
When I go into the garden, there she is.
The specter holds up her arms to show
that her hands are eaten off.
She is silent because of the agony.
There is blood on her face.
I can see she has done this to herself.
So she would not feel the other pain.
And it is true, she does not feel it.
She does not even see me.
It is not she anymore, but the pain itself
that moves her. I look and think
how to forget. How can I live while she
stands there? And if I take her life
what will that make of me? I cannot
touch her, make her conscious.
It would hurt her too much.
I hear the sound all through the air
that was her eating, but it is on its own now,
completely separate from her. I think
I am supposed to look. I am not supposed
to turn away. I am supposed to see each detail
and all expression gone. My God, I think,
if paradise is to be here
it will have to include her.

“There She Is” by Linda Gregg. Copyright 2008 by Linda Gregg. Reprinted from All of It Singing with permission from Graywolf Press. www.graywolfpress.org

Source: All of It Singing (Graywolf Press, 2008)

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Poet Linda Gregg b. 1942

POET’S REGION U.S., Western

Subjects Horror, Social Commentaries, Mythology & Folklore