Table of
Contents
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Empty Sky
I know loose tongues
and roller-coasters,
I grew up
in an amusement park
of putrid smells
where I collected debris
in the image of myself
in the mirror,
which is why
when he tweets out a rant
about making America great,
I understand
the tattoo of fear
etched in the hearts
of the Black, the Syrian, the reporter
who says:
“the emperor is wearing no clothes;”
watching the man
in the baseball hat
who tilts his face, defiant,
toward an empty sky.
Pamela L. Laskin
__
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Outer Space
You can pretend
hope is forever
living here
there is a place for you,
until 2017
when the new president
stabs at the planet’s heart,
saying I am the constellation,
and also the sun and moon,
if you do not believe me
feel free
to leave
this orbit.
Pamela L. Laskin__
©Aldo Vigliarolo: Darius
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Being Black in the Age of Trump
I have no Black child,
so how do I know what it means
to send this son
out to buy milk
at the corner grocery,
knowing the police
may beg him to breathe
into a breathalyzer
(even worse),
and my boy,
balanced as he is,
may refuse.
Then what?
Pamela L. Laskin__
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Fairy Land
You dreamed a castle
a kingdom made of gold,
a queen, a princess,
several princes
singing their song,
and-like magic-
you summoned an America
in a distant land
far from the forest
anyone knew,
now
people bow down to you,
they imagine
your tale is true,
they think
as you tear down
every guidepost on the road,
that you, on your bombastic throne,
will offer them sweets
will give them trinkets
will provide shelter
from the dangerous tornado
blowing wildly in random directions.
Pamela L. Laskin__
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