DETENTE
I’m done with this fiction
Formatting
The quest for
Heartbeat
Success
From the keyboard
Through the screen
Words pressed – compressed
Into hope – legitimacy?
Until then – I won’t run
I’ll push ‘send’ then
I’ll swim
Slapping the water
Ending battles with the alphabet
Each lap increasing détente
Approval
Rejection
DETENTE
I’m done with this fiction
Formatting
The quest for
Heartbeat
Success
From the keyboard
Through the screen
Words pressed – compressed
Into hope – legitimacy?
Until then – I won’t run
I’ll push ‘send’ instead
I’ll swim
Slapping the water
Ending battles with the alphabet
Each lap increasing détente
Approval
Rejection
REINCARNATION
I’LL BE A WOMAN MODIFIED
CARRYING MY WOMB
STRAPPED OUTSIDE
OPEN CARRY
MY MOIST BENDOLIER
EXOSKELETON WEAPON
STRIKING FEAR
I’LL TAKE IT INTO
DONUT SHOPS
ICE CREAM
and PIZZA MOM & POPS
LET LITTLE MEN KNOW
THE FEAR HAS STOPPED
I’LL FLICK THEIR HEADS
OFF MY SHOULDER WITH EASE
COMFORT-SEEKING VERMIN
I’LL NOT APPEASE
THEY’LL PROFESS TO ME
THEIR LOVE AND LIGHT
BEFORE VOTING AND
RECANTING MY RIGHTS
WHEN I RETURN
NO REGRESSION
TO THE MEAN
I’LL HAVE A LIFE WITH MORE RIGHTS
THAN AN AR-15
G.D. FELDMAN 6/2022
ON BIG PINE KEY: QUARANTINED WITH WORDS
My words,
They’ve marched in on dreams,
Printed conversations with those
Who’ve mastered their form
They’ve fallen from my tongue in hailstorms –
WTFs after reading NYT’s homepage
Today, I am stuck at the intersection of
“If only” and “Where to now?”
30 minutes ago, over coffee and sunrise
I knew where I was going
Now, not so much
We walk the dog
I look for the cardinal who had
Been singing his bright red song
For weeks now
He’s gone – beating the lockdown
Finding a mate who loves his music
But I am still here
Quarantined in paradise
Wrestling with each letter
Clanging demands
Words; unheard cries
Unraveling the earth
Before it dies
THE RICH GET RICHER
I hear the Rich are happy now
Millions are left uninsured
Their congressional pawns lie straight-faced
Tax money saved and secured
How much do Rich need to satisfy
How far can their zeros extend
Common decency should prove the check
When so many have so little to spend
Ask, they’ll say: we worked hard for our money
We deserve every fruit of the earth
They’ll explain to us, meritocracy
Forget criminal inheritance, and birth
They’re rich because we like their stuff
As greed smiles behind our backs
Their small Christmas bonus implies
We can buy those boots but not those straps
The Rich assuage guilt with philanthropy
Tattooing their hearts with no blame
As the poor kneel to pray for cures
For diseases bearing only their names
CIRCUS FAMILIAR
I’ve come to accept the spectacle
The morning face that stares back at me in the mirror
Large pores packed with night-sweats and frustration
There’s lots to do but nothing to say
That will ease the guilt of not doing
Most likely I’ll clean my keyboard
remove the fingerprints
angry smudges that dappled my screen with hope.
I’ll open the Times app before adjusting a pillow behind my aging back
I’ll sip some tea as I consider the tilt of the screen and font size
I’ll search for good news as if
I’ve not already thrust my chin up to the edge of humanity
To improve my view of its destruction.
Gwen's World 