Implosions, by Adrienne Rich.

This poem totally blew me away when I came across is on Poetic Medicine the other day. That said, Rich's stuff always blows me away - I've never connected to a poet so much, or found any work quite so powerful as hers. It's strange, in that to most people she's the lesbian feminist one, but I am neither a lesbian nor an ardent feminist, but by god, I love her work. She's hardcore, dammit.

The world's not wanton only wild and wavering I wanted to choose words that even you would have to be changed by Take the word of my pulse, loving and ordinary Send out your signals, hoist your dark scribbled flags but take my hand All wars are useless to the dead My hands are knotted in the rope and I cannot sound the bell My hands are frozen to the switch and I cannot throw it The foot is in the wheel When it's finished and we're lying in a stubble of blistered flowers eyes gaping, mouths staring dusted with crushed arterial blues I'll have done nothing even for you?