Collective Unrest

 

The smell of gunpowder, and cowering

February 13, 2019

a.
How did I ever make beds
before making babies;
or make anything at all,

How do we get up when shootings will
lay us back down, lay us back down
to wear the dirt socks; in pine –
cut down dark and quiet forests
(feller-bunched)

b.
How do racists go on air and say
hello and please and thank-you?

In talcum power plays;
auto-silencer-trigger-thingamajiggies
without-even-a-human-finger-
touching-them-once

Or listen to the
breathless ones, singing songs
of the breathing ones:

Big Green Tractor
Burnin’ It Down.
They Don’t Know
Why –

When people still walk with feet
attached to limbs, yell for help with
their mouths (feller-bunched)
Messy and covered in –

c.
How do they lie like this
We were free people once –
walking to town,
no cars around to run us down –
(feller-bunched)

Don’t tread on me with your Michelins;
we had our own souls to trade upward
dark red; honest dirt of our ancestors –

Who did not spray tan /
gamble-rat /
ruff us up /
fluffed up tweeting /
POTUS: the largest of the Angry Birds.

d.
We had arthritic bones from farming;
from suffering;

Not typing on and on quietly like this –
in my room of pine
(feller-bunched) –

All around here, it’s lingering…
the smell of gunpowder, and cowering.

 

 

Elisabeth Horan is a poet and mother from Vermont. She writes to let others know they are not alone in their struggles with mental illness and disability. She has work at Milk + Beans, Writer’s Resist, The Mad River, formercactus, Feminine Collective and many other wonderful places you enjoy. @ehoranpoet & ehoranpoet.com

Please follow and like us:
error
Newer Post

Three Poems

TW for violence and murder from Lynda Ann Healy disappeared: 1/31/74 white female, 21, student, long dark hair, just his type. but you don't know me. i've got a backpack full of groceries and plans to cook for friends, last…
Read
Older Post

The one eyed doll

*TW for sexual assault of an underage girl   A young little girl In the eleventh summer of her pleasantly wretched life With a heavy bag on her little shoulders And a language book in it Walked her way With…
Read
Random Post

May of Another Hard Year: Some Thoughts

Click on the link below to access the PDF for Michael Farrell Smith's visually-formatted lyric memoir essay with erasures, May of another Hard Year: Some Thoughts. May of another Hard Year: Some Thoughts     Michael Farrell Smith (formerly Mike Smith, and…
Read
Random Post

Day of the Daisy: A Musical

Day of the Daisy: A Musical," by Margaret Koger is a powerhouse hybrid of poetic edge and unique execution blending journalistic citation into the fray with effortless prowess as it plunges you into its winding narrative. A refreshing example of…
Read
Random Post

Mob Rule

Consider this sea of movement, the multitude in waves. Now, deceptively calm, until by a mysterious wave of a demagogue’s hand, it shall arise tidal to sweep and ruin everything in its path. Then, what crimes in whose or what…
Read
Random Post

you don't want to remember

TW for sexual assault    you know by now you know character traits and character acting like a fool in love with yourself you sit alone lonely grayed voices call clear and you comeback why and ask why when by now…
Read