Another request comes in
by Marge Piercy
The cruelty in any given day
rises like an acid tsunami.
A man rapes a woman because
he can. An army invades, killing
whole families, whole villages
burnt because they can.
A woman tells her son how
ugly he is, because she can.
There’s no one else to hear.
Her malice is safe, bruises
hidden under clothes, invisible.
He kicks his dog afterward.
A rich man blocks health care
for those who have less than
he does. A woman bleeds
to death and her daughter
finds her, because legislators
think women who have sex
deserve all the pain they can
inflict. A mother holds her dying
child whose belly is swollen,
eyes jelly, though she gave up
her last crumb to him, just another
casual casualty of war.
We have seen all this on TV.
We have heard it all before.
It’s not my fault, we mutter.
Only a short way to, not my
business, not my concern.
They’re always asking for money.
Copyright © 2018 by Marge Piercy.