Domestic Violence: Poems

It is a long time since I properly read any poetry, which seems like some kind of secular confession. I don't know why I picked this book of all books when browsing my bookshelves this evening. Maybe the title promised some meaning, certainly not comfort, after the most recent horror of the ongoing horrors that seem to be the ongoing acceptance of things.

I think I remember who recommended her to me but that was getting on for a decade ago and I'm pretty sure at some point I have read her work before but have forgotten. I read this through in one sitting. Reading most of it aloud, joys of living alone. I found this a very powerful and emotional collection.

Letters to the Dead
...
VII
How many daughters stood alone at a grave,
and thought this of their mothers' lives?
That they were young in a country that hated a woman's body.
That they grew old in a country that hated a woman's body.
...

How many indeed and how many will continue to do so?