i read in the newspaper about
a young woman raped
by an aquaintance;
she decided not to press charges,
she had his baby. i realized that person
was my sister.
the baby's name is Charity.
though she looks like her father,
Charity will never be ours. She will never
be Lillian's, or even Robert's.
she will always
be the fruit of something
beyond comprehension as a civilized world.
Charity belongs
to the nameless
overpowering
need.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem