The Report

You sit down to write a report entitled,

“How is it possible for one person to kill another?”

An hour later you wander off into the streets,

leaving a blank page pocked with dark nothings.

You see people cover coughs, remove glasses,

wave goodbyes, adjust headsets, thumb mobiles,

stub out cigarettes and arrange hair in ways that

suggest intimate worlds and private moments.

Almost every action unaware,

an unnoticed use of the hands.

You wonder how many more steps

in the direction of unconsciousness

would be required for one of those pairs of hands

to be raised against another.

You fall into the hole

between the hand and the heart

and stay there

because it is easier than answering such questions.

View this poem on The Disappearing »