poem index


Karen Houle

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by this poet

Give me the common or the rare, as they roll

We are mistaken in what we survive, 
in what we must eliminate.

The ladies at the plate glass persist, 
reviving their brutal martyrdoms, 
worn thin by the abuse of soap, 
the contour of teacups in unison

against smallpox, cosmetic agriculture, 
and wartime rape.