Marshalling

they are marshalling
their forces against Thurgood
Marshall and so by

implication line up
proudly against Brown vs
board of education?

old resentments of
racial integration shake
their privileged white fists

at a fearful white
nation and gobble from thick
necks, both red and white,

the code meant to scare
the old, ever-fearful right:
activist judges!

activist judges!
Justice Marshall threatens our
democracy from

the grave! the white man
from Alabama must save
us from repeating

old mistakes but please!
don’t take his remarks out of
their contextual

place. it’s so tiresome.
his objection to Marshall
is not based on race.

but let’s face it—
he never should have made it
a federal case.

OK. Maybe this isn't great poetry, but I am shaking in disbelief right now. Really? THURGOOD MARSHALL is the new judicial boogeyman?

Dispersants

I don’t think I can
write it
or read any more
press releases
and watch them
treat the symptoms
instead of the diseases
again.
I’ve done it myself
and I know
how it ends.
Or doesn’t, I should say,
it doesn’t.
Believe me, I’ve dabbled
in dispersants for years
to treat my own
surface spills
but they only
doubled down
on what I tried
to kill,
shuffled the problems around,
until the pain
came down like
a toxic,
oily
Louisiana
rain.

This week's prompt at Big Tent Poetry was to write about the oil spill by starting with why it was hard to write about the oil spill...

Impotent Expectorant

Image by Paivi Hintsanen

He covers his mouth first
then coughs out
what he resents but only
those dull
and blunt
make their way out, anything
dangerous remains down
in the dark
of his tonsils where
they spark
and catch like
histaminic stars
there is no milk to coat
his angry throat, no ice
to comfort his mute and
swollen fury
he can only contain
and clench,
can only keep
his
dark mouth shut

This is in response to last week's big tent poetry prompt. I am rather late wtih this one, though I'm enjoying the good stuff at big tent poetry very much! Last week's prompt gave us a great wordle to work with, though I did not use all of the words...

Silly Rhyme for Rick on Father's Day

Thank you for joining
your Ys to my Xes and
making me mother
to the more boysterous
of the sexes

Scratch, Shove, and Crunch

Salvador Dali, 1930

I'll damn well scratch my way if I have to
I'm done with this grey, low-hanging compression
Trusting my reach and my own range of motion
I scrape angry fingers across the sky

I'm done with the grey, low-hanging compression
Sick with the sight of my ankles and feet
I scrape angry fingers across the sky
Then dig out the blue and save it for later

Sick with the sight of my ankles and feet
I'm done with this supposed low-pressure system
I'll dig out the blue and save it for later
Shove it down in my pocket where no one can reach it

I'm done with this supposed low-pressure system
I'm grabbing the higher to keep for myself
I'll shove it down in my pocket where no one can touch it
Or crunch it under my heel to show it who's boss

This is my first poem written in response to a prompt from Big Tent Poetry. This week's prompt was to write a pantoum, which was also a first for me. It's good to be back!

Hello Blogland!

A big hello out there to anyone who might still be checking in with my blog. Life in Teacherland has been quite hectic lately, but all of my summer school prep is done and I am turning my attention to the blogosphere again. I'll be posting a new poem within the next day or two, and plan on keeping up regularly throughout the summer.

I'm also looking forward to visiting some of my favorite bloggers and enjoying their creativity and words of wisdom.

Happy summer, everyone!

~Erin