Jenny Saville: Child with Red on their Face

I don’t know their name,
I don’t know what she called them,
I can hear their silent, open-mouthed
pain as I stare into their eyes, fall
into the galaxy of stars they hold,
pull myself back and cringe
because is that blood? are they bruises?
My breath catches on the fear
in my throat, I clutch my elbows,
I walk away, knowing I’m a coward,
and I can’t care about my ego because
every second I look at them harpoons
my guts. Two seconds, two weeks:
I can still hear their silent agony