Michele Battiste
Remains
Five acres bordered
by land no longer
your father’s. The stone
schoolhouse that saw you
married, my husband
already waving
his fists inside your
womb. The gate knotted
up with overgrown
broomgrass, guarding
a path to the creek.
The neighbor’s goats have
escaped their pen, crossed
the dirt road always
giving up dust, have
their run of the place.
This is the land you
saved, the asylum
of your planned escape
when the world goes
nuts. Sue, we have your
license plates, the red
toothbrush you bought my
son. My husband thought
to put aside the
butcher’s block I loved.
You know what I am
avoiding: ashes
in the box on top
the bureau. You are
not home. We are not
safe. Nothing ended
like you wanted. What
remains: the trial.
I mean pilgrimage.
Terror. I mean rage.
Michele Battiste is the author of the poetry collections Ink for an Odd Cartography (2009) and Uprising (2013), both from Black Lawrence Press. She is also the author of four chapbooks, the latest of which is Lineage (Binge Press, 2012). Her work has appeared in American Poetry Review, Anti-, The Awl, Mid-American Review, and Women's Studies Quarterly. She lives in Boulder, CO where she raises fund for nonprofits undoing corporate evil.