What Rough Beast | Poem for August 9, 2017

Jessica Ramer
Red Beast Slouching

The center cannot hold—and I rejoice
that our center will not hold—
although I grieve the loss of what is good in us—

Workers bolting steel into ambulances
Boy Scouts trading patches at jamborees
Robotics competitions in high schools—

As I grieve the coming loss of what I love about us—

Lone houses on prairies
Spaceships hurtling past Pluto
Plain talk in town diners—

And baptize myself in the vastness of America:

Horseback trails in Appalachia
Ponds dotting New England
Sea grape trees and saw grass
Humpback whales feeding near Sitka—

Even as devolution becomes the phosphorus bomb illuminating our darkness:

Tomahawks and Apaches our exports
Shuttered factories our landscape
Prison archipelagoes our industry
Philando Castile shot in our streets.

Yet, I rejoice—in the guarded way parents
celebrate the birth of their fifteen-year-old
daughter’s child—that collapsing rubble
renders our boulevards almost impassable
and slows that slouching red beast
shuffling the return path from Bethlehem.

 

Jessica Ramer is a PhD student at the University of Southern Mississippi’s Center for Writers.

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