You who go out on schedule/ to kill, do you know/ there are eyes that watch you,/ eyes whose lids you burned off/ that see you eat your steak/ and buy your girlflesh/ and sell your PX goods/ and sleep?/ She is not old,/ she whose eyes/ know you./ She will outlast you./ She saw/ her five young children/ writhe and die;/ in that hour/ she began to watch you,/ she whose eyes are open forever.
II The Seeing
Hands over my eyes I see/ blood and the little bones;/ or when a blanket covers/ the sockets I see the/ weave; at night the glare softens/ but I have power now/ to see there is only gray/ on gray, the sleepers, the/ altar. I see the living/ and the dead; the dead are/ as if alive, the mouth of/ my youngest son pulls my/ breast, but there is no milk, he/ is a ghost; through his flesh/ I see the dying of those/ said to be alive, the mouth of/ my youngest son pulls my/ breast, but there is no milk, he/ is a ghost; through his flesh/ I see the dying of those/ said to be alive, they/ eat rice and speak to me but/ I see dull death in them/ and while they speak to me I see/ myself on my mat, body/ and eyes, eyes that see a/ hand in the unclouded sky,/ a human hand, release/ wet fire, the rain that gave/ my eyes their vigilance.
(from "Poems 1960-1967", New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1983)