​Disconnect


I remember my arm about her
As we sat on her crappy green couch,
The one her brother gave her
With the middle collapsed.

As we watched Invisible Children 
She grew silent, no words or nods for my comments.
The children, sleepless and hungry,
Confessed through the screen

That many of them saw
Their parents beaten or shot.
The hour grew long and her eyes
Never left the scrolling names of production workers 

Until all was black.

I remember thinking to myself
That she must feel a part of this world
I could not. That my heart 
Was defective. Hers strong.

I could see the injustice and need
For things to be done. Even I 
Knew my part, that I would write checks or letters
Or both.

But I couldn’t really feel
Until two days later when she came over
For dinner and solved my mystery
By breaking things off.