While my country pays for a genocide
Like I paid for eggs and non-dairy creamer at the natural food store early evening
I tuck native plants into the soil
Call my representatives
Leave another voicemail
Text my friends
Stand in vigil downtown with other members of my community
Light a candle
Rake the wet leaves from my absent neighbors' driveway
Rake the piled leaves onto a large brown tarp
Drag the tarp down the driveway, a corner gripped in each hand
Carefully tip the leaves into the gutter
Carry the mail to the garage and stack it softly on the wooden step leading into my neighbors' home
Language, they say, has to break
There are no words for this
We make them
Or
We stop doing heretofore unspeakable things
We must be honest.
They have always been done.
Now a plurality of people, power to them, are trying to speak to it
That's the hope here: How many people are trying to find the words
