AN ACT OF LOVE, HOWEVER SMALL
I turned on the TV & saw
of blood. Except
there was no blood, it had been wiped clean. & she had
no mouth, but a gutted violin. & no god-soaked rhetoric
could convince us of a
“sanctified violence.” An eye for an eye means
who’s watching the kids? Well, the kids are alright,
except for the bullet-holes.
Except for the suicides.
Except for what they’ll do to one another.
More than mines, every war zone is littered with little tendernesses.
live on long after the body. Long after the blast.
An act of love
blesses the space that held it;
like a retina after light.
By Maya Owen
Maya Owen will never get over the Library of Alexandria. Her poems have appeared most recently (or are forthcoming) in voicemailpoems, Electric Cereal, and Alexandria Quarterly. She is a proud staff member at Winter Tangerine Review, and writes regularly at mementonasci.tumblr.com.