04.12.2019
Weekly poem on Trump Presidency

 

AMORAK HUEY

American Prayer

Some parents on Facebook this morning are wondering whether it’s truly PJ day at the elementary school. Trust but verify and all that, which is something a president once said about international diplomacy or maybe the motto of a newspaper, I forget, but if your mother says she loves you, check it out, right? What happens if our children wind up alone in their Hogwarts robes, their stegosaurus fleeces and sloth slippers, classmates clad in the usual: jeans, T-shirts, sweaters and soccer jerseys, track pants and armor-plated backpacks? Perhaps a valuable lesson in how we are ultimately on our own. In the limits of what we can prepare for. In how we know when things have gone disastrously awry. We have children and hope for the best, my god, but that’s not always what we get. Let ’em wear pajamas, someone’s father posts, what’s the worst—though he doesn’t mean it, we know the answer. Spring is weeks away but it’s cold and the sidewalks are winter-slick: half-melted, refrozen, dangerous. Bundle up, we beg, and our children tumble into the sky of a new day, ceramic, shatterproof, and dressed for dreaming.

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Amorak Huey is author of three books of poetry: Boom Box (Sundress, 2019), Seducing the Asparagus Queen (Cloudbank, 2018, winner of the Vern Rutsala Prize), and Ha Ha Ha Thump (Sundress, 2015), as well as two chapbooks. A 2017 NEA Fellow in poetry, he is co-author with W. Todd Kaneko of Poetry: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology (Bloomsbury, 2018) and teaches at Grand Valley State University in Michigan.

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