Month: November 2020

When bones are no longer alive,

flesh is cut away, cleaned by sharp teeth

as hungry humans and animals gather to give thanks. 

Even when loved ones meet up virtually  

flesh is cut away, cleaned by sharp teeth.

Zooming hot with bellies and hearts full—

Even when loved ones meet virtually, 

the world begins at the dining table.

Zooming hot with bellies and hearts full;

when other babies are born, and secrets and news are shared,

the world begins at the dining table.

We will remember our loved ones gone

when other babies are born, and secrets and news are shared

as hungry humans and animals gather to give thanks. 

We will remember our loved ones gone

when our bones are no longer alive.

They raise sheep in Indiana;

that’s why Mr. Cheetos Shithead

is winning there—a long night

awaits the wicked and the pure believers. 

Blue power is not enough to win the brass ring

of politics. Last time we lost hard,

and it might take weeks to mull over

and count every single American vote.

Don’t know—don’t be afraid of the pain, 

the meditation masters have said—

but the scars of Nixon, the Bushes and Cheeto 

still cut our country deep; red blood gushing 

for many years in the Senate. The blood 

of the dead by COVID is not swept up, sanitized, forgotten. 

We won’t forget 2020 for many decades and centuries; 

instant karma will come to collect the ruffians, 

empty their pockets of influence. 

But election night in 2016 almost promised a Democratic victory. 

Many hearts were pulverized and broken—

all we can do is wait; waiting is the hardest part.