By Darrell Petska
Can’t you feel it?
That chokehold on our throats—
write like this
say it like that
be dignified, calm, aloof—
Hell, today’s hands demand poems
hard as a brick.
Frilly little rhymes?
Maybe Sundays with tea.
Something afraid of us
wants our words meek, not defiant:
“Go ahead, throw your cream puffs.
Now aren’t you a rebel!”—
hoping we won’t throw bricks.
Don’t fall for that.
Now’s not the time for nice.
Something needs to learn
what pissed-off poems can do.
Darrell Petska‘s writing appears in Whirlwind, The Missing Slate, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Red Paint Hill, Right Hand Pointing, and numerous other print and online publications. Darrell worked for many years as engineering outreach editor, University of Wisconsin-Madison. He left the university to be the arbiter of his own words. He lives near Madison, Wisconsin.
Photo credit: Way Tru via a Creative Commons license.
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