04.13.18
Weekly poem on Trump Presidency

 

MATTHEW ZAPRUDER

December

At first we all
went down to the lake
to hold hands,
all the multicolored
signs said
with love
we will resist,
over my head
I lifted my son
so he could see
what people
look like
when they hear
the song imagine,
a few weeks later
again people stood
at the water,
this time at night
holding flashlights
to say to fire
you came
without permission
and took our young
gentle soldiers
for art
so we will show
even with our old
technology
we can see
each other
without you,
others booed
the mayor which was
my friend said
understandable,
I don’t know
what is anymore,
everyone understands
in a different
contradictory way
the so far purely
abstract
catastrophe
so many millions
of choices
brought us,
not too far
from the water
I sat on the couch
below the sound
of blades
drinking amber
numbing fluid
my thoughts
chopping the air
feeling not
what is the word
to be a father
equipped,
mine never told me
where to hide
a brick of gold,
for a long time
I have known
no voices
will come at last
to tell us how
to stop pretending
we don’t know
if it is not
safe for some
it is not
for anyone.

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Matthew Zapruder is the author of four collections of poetry, as well as Why Poetry, a book of prose, from Ecco Press. An Associate Professor at Saint Mary’s College of California, and editor at large at Wave Books, he lives in Oakland, CA.

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