September 16, 2018Kavanaugh Carwash
Put it in neutral and let yourself be pulled forward by
That waterlogged wooden voice raised to shake
The timbers of an empty Iowa church but overruled
By the blast of water directed at the undercarriage,
Which he calls “Mob rule,” and then the lashing of rubber tongues
Against the soapy windshield and put-upon charges
Rumble against the car’s slick sides, round brushes
That expel protesters who hold fast to gallery railings,
Still shouting, you paid for the wax, already heated,
To drip from the nozzle, smooth over the cracks,
But there’s no way to buff this out before the chassis
gives a final lurch and leaves you stranded,
Moving forward under your own power, or not at all.
from Poets Respond