Poetry

paolobarzman photo

By

Penn Kemp

Piece By Piece

The men worked from six to six

too tired for politics.  Still

they were flayed with sharp

blades until they were dead.

All night inside the camp women

huddle, wait for the screams’

stop, for the children to sleep.

The scream climbs inside my ears.

Truly I don’t know what to do.

What good would I be there,

another body to count?

Instead I find myself

yelling at my lover, that

kind man, and run ashamed

through our dominion of peace.

Shame, for shame.

The women can not even collect

wood without without.  They no

longer ask what happens.  Now

they must wander further for fuel

further into harm’s chance way

without husband, without home.

No-one sows the spring

seeds.

Penn Kemp

Penn Kemp is an activist Canadian poet, playwright and editor.  Her latest works are two plays celebrating local hero and explorer, Teresa Harris, produced in 2017 and published by Playwrights Guild of Canada. Recent books include Barbaric Cultural Practice (quattrobooks.ca/books/barbaric-cultural-practice/) and two anthologies edited, Women and Multimedia and Performing Women (http://poets.ca/feministcaucus/livingarchives/). See www.pennkemp.weebly.com.