there is not enough room to spell out
on poster board
what needs to be shouted
or chanted
no clever phrase for
how I am frightened for my children
and terrified for their future.
no foxtrot delta tango
or foxglove daisy tulip
fucks anyone hard enough to care
but here I am
waving a sign
with nothing on it
because I have too much to tell
This morning
I sent a picture of a salad
To a friend
& we discussed lettuce keepers
This is my life now
As my country staggers
& I worry for my children
I am only talking about
Home things.
Salad. Mason jars.
Revolution.
I am without words which are weapons & wrap me like arms without rocking & rest heavy against my chest the way a bulletproof vest would if I had one if we all had one I wouldn't be writing about 10 people in a grocery store or 19 children & 2 teachers I might even have words instead of tears
if I count magic in the space between your breaths & not what is measured in the numbering of them I will know that life happens past proof of where it has been quietly & in spite of it
20 years later On September 10th The memorials begin And I can't surf the wreckage Of another tower Or count the ashes Of lives sacrificed In a Pennsylvania field again We've been here before Tomorrow I will remember The moment the second plane hit And how frantic I was to hold my daughter Because I still could On that day full of so much losing
I didn't get over losing you easy, Your name still a whisper under my tongue. I woke up today counting the years of it On my fingers: 26 without you. This year is different. Now, I am the last of us, Our once large family that filled a station wagon Gone. I'm all that's left, The curator of a collection Few come to visit, Though I wait for guests, Dusting off what's special And smiling at the rest.
Dressed like lady liberty Raising a plastic torch That never burns You riot for America Sedition swaddled comfortably In the flag So you can call it patriotism If patriots can't lose Without spilling blood or tears
Susan Daniels Poetry 