M. Hank

Part One: “Of the People”

Let a symphony of voices form a cacophony so loud

God themselves won’t be able to ignore our 

grief, our

sorrow; the shattered fragments of our hearts

Midwestern night.

There’s something out in the fields,

Something banging on the roof.

Fresh vomit in the toilet.

The sink is running, so you can’t

Hear your own heavy breathing.

The ancient Greeks believed that names held power. I happen to agree. 

I don’t remember when I first discovered this truth. It is something I feel like I have always known, since the moment I received my first name. 

Based on the poem "This is just to say" by William Carlos Williams. 

I have drunk 

the tea 

that was on 

the counter 

and which

Her name was Violet, 

but she always wore yellow. 

I spied her from across the room as I hesitated in the sun-framed doorway, and she was beautiful.