Field Marks (poem)

Field Marks

What makes the clannist rich though he cries poor

He never chooses his pleasures but enjoys them all

His lustful wish is to be begged for help

And refuse it

She hears a crunch of shoes, a tuneless tune

A male whistle. Those things, like coughs, can be told

No, if she had known him, she might bear witness

With butter knives she jams the window shut

But she has never changed the locks

Because to do so invites a beating

…not a beating, but a steady pressing on her temples

Was it her fault, can it be said

She deserved trouble

The economist says no, the world is divided

Measurers of risk and gain say, move it on

The attributional powers of the poisoned mind

Find the immaculate stand unaccused

The accused shrink defiled by a finger

She wants to count her money

Field Marks

Not a Living Thing

(2017, Stephanie Foster)