One Act
           after a painting by Christopher Wool

We run through mud
dragging sticks, throwing wet
against the rain, scrambling up
the ladders of barge beds,
but now she has got me 

in its rust-streaked hallway
and I am pounding on the empty metal
sheet steel, knees skinned

in the fall—she drags the bag
out of the water—they spill
some still

creaking pink
maws open
in the slippery brown tangle

she is shaking me and yelling
            you said they were rats
            but I know you I tell her

and her hand is at her belt
            how do you like that?
            but I know you

I tell her
I am just
your sister
            how do you like that?

I am just
not big enough
to reach over

the heavy lip
my foot slipped
cut on a jagged rung

she is shaking me
and her hand is now
at the end of her belt
            I am just
            her sister            

and in her hands their pitched gasping
            you said they were rats
and in her hands the near-burst bellies
            you said
and in her hands

            catsinbag
            bag
            in
            river