Collective Unrest

 

death valley vacuum

September 3, 2018

for those who never came back

 

they raise a gun.

they raise a hand.

one of them goes off.

i think of raising a child

or the lemon tree on my porch

in this climate.

all the heat comes from many sunbursts.

what use are flags

on a windless day?

 

Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Years Without Room (Weasel Press, 2018).

Please follow and like us:
error
Newer Post

holes in the curtain 1 & 2

holes in the curtain   nothing knows how to begin, without a voice.   a face like a gash in the windshield of the universe.   rotating, rotating. we think we inhabit a sphere,   something perfect, something close to…
Read
Older Post

Resist

Every day we awaken to some new atrocity, scandal, misuse and abuse of power at the hands of men. Every day a new tragedy, trauma, act of white male terrorism. Each sunrise piling fear atop compounding fear. We awaken to…
Read
Random Post

My dinner with an anti-Semite in Patagonia

Since retiring in 2012 my partner and I have spent 4-6 weeks each Canadian winter in Latin America studying Spanish. It’s an intensive and rewarding experience on many levels. We arrive early for school five mornings a week, participate in…
Read
Random Post

for the girls

TW for sexual assault and rape   this poem is for the girls who get called “too political” for being feminists. this poem is for the girls whose “no’s” wilt fast, who memorize dark satin pillowcase against cheek and the…
Read
Random Post

Dew

Legs like lengths of root, latching into soil holding me down. Like the weight of a thousand rain filled shoes discarded on front porches after morning walks in wet grass. I used to get up early to walk in the…
Read
Random Post

Galosta

I. When Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, her baby leapt in her womb. II. Eight years ago this month my sister and I watched women selling shawls at the gates of Vatican City slinging modesty for women’s shoulders on…
Read