When pain replaces pain

But let us return to the child of the poem.

There is more here than a girl in pigtails, dragging

a doll by the hair, more than two brown eyes shrinking

in the Texas bright. Notice, for instance, the absence

of others. Notice how close cactus needles 

graze the girl's waist, fire ants at her feet carrying

a grain of bread from here to there. Heat rises

from pavement in a hazy wave, the bottom of her

shoes stick as she goes left to right. You are here now

so you notice the sounds coming through the door
-- the yelling and silence shatter against a heat so thick
you can barely breathe.

You are a visitor but this common as cacti for the girl,

as scorpion inside shoe-- inside her

a sadness has taken its root and coiled deep

in her gut and only the blue cat hiding

beneath the couch, understands.

But let us return to the child of the poem. Let us

watch as she sits on hundreds of

needles. Let us watch fire ants swarm her

hands, arms, bite her red. Let us

feel relief of the sadness leaving her body

in its place—a screaming pain.