Sending support to Bob down South at this difficult time. I am in awe of his ability to express the present situation poetically when everything is still so raw.
Sensing My Dismay at the Election Results, My Wife’s Dog Presses Against Me
And when I roll over, my toe finds a hole in the not
inexpensive 400 thread count percale sheet and rips
down its length, and I wonder if I should extend this
metaphor to include walls and the unbearable weight
of societal collapse, or hatred with small hands and
minds or faces like pale disks of whitewashed emptiness
glaring at my friends, or, well, my wife and I, across
the restaurant’s laminate booths or the potholed street
by the bus stop. I recall the woman’s sneer and hushed
commentary that afternoon, and though I wanted to
correct her mistaken assumption (hey, lady, I’m not
Hispanic) and redirect her bigotry to the correct ethnicity,
I chose instead to smile and wave goodbye, to drive to
the polls and cast my ballot, one drop in that dark bucket
of…
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