Weekly poem on Trump Presidency


Ashleigh Lambert

I, too, long for a different apocalypse

I, too, long for a different apocalypse

Ours is suddenly such a friendly necropolis:

all the white smiles

light up the tombs

                  How the floodlights now flatter the dead

                  the dead who are still breathing and shopping

Addendum to dread:

a politics of opulence

Peaches so sweet they rot right in your bed

                  the pale rib clawing its way past the skin

I, too, expected more than a recurrence

of trick zombie somnolence:

                  they aren’t sleeping, though you hope so

                  they aren’t sleeping, but hungry

Addendum: I’ve heard said there’d be days like this,

but I believed in a floor on horror

Now there’s the wind urging you

to take the great leap. I, too, long for true north,

but we wild like weathervane

flummoxing in the storm

                  Doing days in the dark

                  while away the weather turns

                  first blue, then olive, then yellow as a peach—

all the colors of a bruise,

then the color of after.

I, too, long for the end to carry

softly within its folds

some knockout drug.


Ashleigh Lambert is the author of the chapbooks The Debt or the Crisis (DoubleCross Press) and Ambivalent Amphibians (Dancing Girl Press). Her poems and reviews can also be found in Bone Bouquet, Coldfront, Diagram, Forklift, Ohio, H_NGM_N, Rain Taxi, and The Rumpus. She lives in Minneapolis and is grateful for her progressive DFL representatives.



illustration:  anna_croc01

illustration: anna_croc01