Weekly poem on Trump Presidency
Friday Afternoon Before the Neo-Nazis Light Their Torches
Gathering its wings, hovering
too high to see clearly
a glint in water, a flash of silver
in its beak, it banks, prey silently
plucked. A hawk
of some kind
just fishing, right?
Sky cloudless, waves still rippling,
my hamsa well polished, I sun myself
on my tie-died beach towel, glad
I don’t have to cook a Sabbath dinner
from the left-over rice at home,
eyes dazed, barely watching.
Rose Auslander lives on Cape Cod. Her book Wild Water Child won the 2016 Bass River Press Poetry Contest, and her chapbooks include Folding Water, Hints, and The Dolphin in the Gowanus. Poetry Editor of Folded Word Press and Editor of the unFold zine, Rose earned her MFA in Poetry from Warren Wilson.