Forms and witnesses, an entourage
that clapped their hands when the deed

was signed— A glittering handful
of pillowed coins, an heirloom;

a barn full of animals, their flanks
gleaming with fat, their eyes the eyes

of the newly subdued or led into confinement.
My dear, do you believe when I tell you

the figs were ripe to the touch and burst
out of their skins without anyone’s prodding?

Would I have reconsidered had someone spoken
other words, even given commands? Who knows

what it is we really want— something to own,
a name, a life, a self to suckle then wean?


In response to Via Negativa: Owned.

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