Rachel on the floor, at Ruby Ridge

Now Mama is in pieces.
My baby sister with blood, brains in her hair,
Mama’s arms still hold her strong.
But all Mama was now stains the kitchen tiles.

Now Mama’s curtains can’t keep out
The flood-lights and the bullhorn taunting,
“Send your children out, we made pancakes this morning!
Send the children out, Vicki!”

Days and days, they won’t stop talking noise,
The tanks in the yard crushed our vegetable garden,
Our dead yellow dog. The shed where my brother lies;
Where Mama washed his back clean
With a kitchen sponge and Daddy screamed at Yahweh.

One second Mama was, the next she was not.

Stop this, Daddy. Now. Let it end

Even if the devil armies overtake us.
I can’t breathe on this floor,
With Mama’s blood turning turkey red,
Smelling like the sun turned to rust.