Cain in the Peopleless Kingdom

Abstract

Cain in the Peopleless Kingdom I.S. Jones (bio) Can one be opulently tired? If so, I am here:dress pockets spilling of acorns, allegro in half shadowspraying mantis scaling the length of my forearm,scraped knees: the signs of a good childhood well spent.A ladybug lands on rotting fruit that when I splitbetween my hands, an encore of maggots spills out. All things in the lush world have their place. Any fieldis a church once you understand surrender. I wearmy sister's blouse with my mother's skirt. I am tenand if I was faithful to patience, the fields beyondmy tending opened their secrets. Show mea creature more resilient than faith—wildflowers. Every winter, they retreat, forming beneath the earth,a whisper of revenge. And every spring, they resurrect.I make garlands and speak to my subjects: I dreamed you once.Did you feel it? Daisies in their proclamation: Yes. I amyour dream made root & flesh. Red clover, white clover,red clover, white clover, make me in your image. Purple cornflower. Lady's glove. Meadowsweet.Because I think I'm so clever, I'll tell you something:I think some of us were born to give more lovethan what we will know in return. And that is killing us.Like what Adam does to my mother, dragging herby the throat into the bedroom. [End Page 177] I.S. Jones I.S. Jones is an American/Nigerian poet and essayist. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming in Guernica, Washington Square Review, LA Review of Books, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. From 2019 to 2022, she served as the director of the Watershed Reading Series with Art + Literature Laboratory. She is currently an instructor with Brooklyn Poets. Copyright © 2022 University of Nebraska Press