This is a poem
made to be poured like
120 grains
of gunpowder
into your musket barrel

as the advancing lines
of the enemy king’s
soldiers come
within range of
the deadly aim
you are sure
you possess
in your fantasy
of stopping them cold
before they overrun
your position
and force you
into surrender
or death;

this is a poem
for when your weapon
misfires, a poem
to be remembered
as you prepare to fall
to your knees or
upon your sword
in desperation
because nothing
in the legends
of your people
taught you how
to lose

and now you have
no choice but to learn
how to go low
now that the high ground
is no longer safe.

“i don’t want to see a poem unless it’s wrapped around a brick.”  Madeleine Roux, on Twitter, following the Roe v. Wade reversal. 

This is a poem
to be wrapped around
a brick

Because the sound
of breaking glass
swells a crowd 

which then surges
in the direction
of the shattering

Because a crowd 
is necessary for what comes
after the glass is broken

as reading a poem
out loud only does
so much in so much noise

Because so much
needs doing
So much glass to break

This is a poem
to be flung
through those windows

Because paper
has proved itself
untrustworthy

Rewrite this poem in 
gasoline then stuff it
into bottles also full of fuel

Because a good match
held to the poem
before launching

will turn it 
into a fire anthem
agains the now-sunless sky

This is a poem
to be hurled at
the sources of darkness

Because
it’s not their war
to win

Returned as projectile
As remonstrance  — as reminder
that this cannot stand

against the fire
this time
next time

This — bah!
No more poems unless
they are written in blood

Somewhat broken.
Frayed. So-called
irreparable.
Dinged up and 
flagged for
obsolescence.
Reduced,
made ready to go
to highest bidder.
You know us. You 
think you know us.

Been here
under your noses
long years passing. 
Folk-song old, 
nursery-rhyme
obvious, not
pop-tune insinuation
incessant; more
embedded, part of
vocabulary — you 
use us unconsciously,
need us but cannot
bring yourself to see
that we as aggregate
cannot be bought,
not completely.
We rent ourselves
to you. You
owe us what we
are worth and we
are worth everything
you have.

If we 
just hold tight
to each other. If we
do not fail along
our faults. If we
sing as we are born to 
sing, stay as your
base layer, keep you
warm until we melt away
and then stand by as you
shiver. We hold 
power over
temperature. We
know how to make you 
freeze, how to
stand by singing
as you do.

They so smug
and stinky
with attitude

unearned power
inability to think beyond 
their own Stench

Worry up the people
saying there will be
civil unrest oh no

if and if and if oh no
this that
and the other oh no

oh no
oh no
oh no no no no

No to
sword and scales
doing as designed

They so smug 
and ripe with
a hey nonny nonny

hey derry down
Singing the one song they know
Always ends with don’t even go there

One hand on a big damn gun
One on some fat book
or another 

They so tremendous
Gaseous cloud making
national poison sunset

They so wring handed
They so rolling eyed
You don’t want civil unrest do you

Talking past us
born Stench sick
Talking past us 

song sourcing
land naming
world molding

choke throated
chest burned
child missing

grave stained
stolen
school tortured

compressed but
never small or beige enough
to hide or fit among them

They so right
We don’t want unrest 
to be at all civil

when — blessed paradox —
fire and smoke
can clear the air

To prevent being robbed
in a push in, secure
your AC unit with screws
and window locks 
if you are close enough to the ground 
that a would-be thief could get to you.

To prevent being hurt
in a street crime, give up
your valuables at once and
don’t try to be a hero no matter
what you carry, no matter
what movies you’ve seen. 

To prevent being victimized 
by online predators, scammers,
and trolls use firewalls 
and private networks, stop taking 
quizzes and playing games,
stop being so certain you’re doing fine. 

To prevent being wounded
by family, friend, or lover
stay sharp and ready,
set boundaries early, require
consent explicitly, expel toxicity
whenever it becomes necessary.

To prevent being torn apart 
by your country? Would-be
thief lured by your cool, 
red-white-blue sneer of a thug,
voice in your ear suggesting
blasphemous surrenders?

The advice remains the same.
Never become too surprised 
that the distance between
two criminals of any stripe
is slim, and the only thing
different is that sometimes,

heroism may be required of you. 

The city, gracious and
grievous at once, 
stares at the plates,
rocks back and forth
with longing, with ravenous 
tradition to feed;

that today will call itself
a melting pot with all its flavors
blending into one,
glorying in the mashup
and saying.
this is good;

that tomorrow
will call itself a salad 
whose flavors are distinct
and identifiable, whose 
least desirable ingredients
can always be plucked out and set aside;

that deep down prefers
its plates regimented, this not 
touching that; that will sample
of course, try everything
of course, then wash it down
and away with coldish tap water;

that certainly 
welcomes you to sit at the table
(if you will use only the preferred condiments)
and eat as much as you can 
until you are unable to push away
when you’ve had too much;

that will say this is good again
when you tumble off your fragile chair
to the ground; the city
both gracious and grievous;
melting pot salad city, wash
it away later city, pointing and laughing

at you on the ground where you recall
the city’s ravenous traditions, 
where you see that when all
is done someone’s going to be made
to do all the dishes and if the city
doesn’t get up to help clear the table

it is only because 
it still has room for dessert,
some kind of pie, you know
what they say is in it
but the way they look at you reminds you 
that there’s not an apple tree for miles.