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Poetry | April 2008

so much deepens

By Kelly Lundgren Pietrucha

it was the red wheel
barrow that
started it, and also the chickens, because
so much depended
upon them.

we were busy — summer afternoons — with such
images, imaginations
and forgot to remember: war, genocide, famine.
until september, when our first child
was born
and my husband said
to me: it’s such great responsibility.

and then: it deepens, you know

34 dead today in baghdad

so i got rid of the chickens
in my fridge, because i was tired
of such live protein, and all its
trappings.
our
wheelbarrow
has been gone for months now,
lent to a neighbor, or
friend.

in other parts of the country people have grown tired of neighbors; they want
a fence, a gun, a 401K.

we’re so
worried about the growth of
our nuclear family.
it folds
itself into the marrow of our bones, this
fear.

34 dead today in baghdad

i sigh and cradle my
baby, and feed him milk from
a cow, not my breast, because
i am not as efficient as i thought i was, not
nearly as independent.

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