“In The Beginning” by Sean Hill

Places to start: our mother’s heart, first
sound to prove our ears—tells us we’re not
one; or the fish, fowl, cattle, and thirst
for dominion and those words beat to wrought

this reality; or one fish, two fish,
since two is all one needs to make other
of another which explains our clannish
ways, and though I’m from the South—am Southern

—I know the tropics and snows and the ways
of their folks, how they make the people of
themselves, but of others, colors and vague
shapes as here I’ve done the same and struggled

not to and failed. From beat one there’s no end
to the spreading differences we apprehend.