February 1, 2018State of the Union
Seems my tears are good
for nothing but to salt
corn on the cob the hired
help shucks to get me
thinking about something
other than that porn star
one-hundred-thirty-thousand
dollars richer for keeping
her mouth shut both during
and after my husband
sodomized her right after
we were married. You too?
I’m not immune to feeling
shame. I don’t wear black
tonight not because I don’t
identify in some small way
with the rest of you—no!—
but I too am a Dreamer
decked out in a Christian
Dior cream-colored suit,
my Dolce Gabbana blouse
a nod to humbled privilege
just South of the Tyrol
where no one could ever
imagine building a wall
let alone asking the public
to pay for it! He promises
unity yet sows discord!
What exactly does the meme
of a North Korean refugee
holding up a crutch mean
in the middle of a speech
no one will remember by
morning when everyone
opens their phones to scores
of fact-checked lies as he
tweets more fake news to his
37% approval-rated base?
Fuck Davos! I’m getting used
to taking a separate car
on that short journey from
here to wherever I’ve never
been able to quite call home …
Of course the Chinese see me
gussied up as an angel of death—
raccoon-eyed and diaphanous
under heavy pomade and
camouflage, hovering here
in the balcony like a helicopter
straight out of Apocalypse Now—
blasting some inaudible tune
with no safe place to land.
from Poets Respond