Weekly poem on Trump Presidency



Curse Of The Middle Class

Naked beneath my PrimaLoft® quilt
nostalgia regrets to inform: watching
The Godfather 

I took notes, preserving a middle class
id. Robust trade unions daunting
the skyscrapers, dockyards, movie sets

When I became the corporate
wife, no uptown Lady MacBeth, I
was a mafia spouse.

45th president
said:  We will have
a well-armed middle class

even though his dad made deals
with old skool scions
of the old world criminal class.

Music was less percussive

The Spirit of Studio 54
reclined on her padded bench
Open legs angelic – 

Roy Cohn wasn't dying instead

Stood guard 
over many a transaction
and all of the sages wore beer goggles.

Nobody carnal at 54
thought it could

like this: calling for 
the schoolroom in springtime 
to be planted with ordinary firearms.


Tracy Quan is the author of three novels, including Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl.  Her poetry has been published by Los Angeles Review of Books and Poets Reading the News. Her essays have appeared in Bookanista, The Globe and Mail, The Daily Beast, Washington Post Book World, Financial Times, New York Times and The Drawbridge.