She wished she'd  known by the familiar pattern of redress
What but a bought fathers contribution  of the unborn idea of lust
one eye open, watching the ironing of a man in his preparation  for a days  work ahead
the other eye closed encumbered by the  stiff muscles of now distant sleep

His eyes were that of a wandering, well polished stone from the sea
overturned and renewed- systematic though
taken back with the curtain, taken bow from the audience
he could sell a man to a car, then that car to the man

pawn in the toss up  of human compassion
ravished for fear of famine on the way to inclusion
missing what he has, what she has, what they have

Never actually existing in the first place