"The Sound a Broken Web Makes" in Soundings East
When did I become a woman who bakes bread
while her dog dies, while her children laugh in the other room
over a joke she will never be privy to, while one forest burns
& another withers with toxic fungus, while children die
under another bomb or beneath the crush of plastic?
Thank you to the lovely editors at Soundings East for giving this poem a place to call home.