"Family Politics," "Domesticated," and "My Dog's Name Is Not America"

Family Politics

When my Dad

tells me my Uncle

is skipping the family reunion

so he can travel

to a Trump Rally in Pennsylvania

 

I think about my Mom

uploading official records

into an internet database

to prove we descended from John Adams

 

and it feels like we have been avoiding

our family obligations.

 

Not like we should have gone

to more summer BBQ’s

but like we left

work unfinished

somewhere along the line.

 

Now that our courts

give more protection

to praying on field

after high school

football games

 

than they give

to choice

in women’s

health decisions

 

and Congress cares more about

getting likes from Q-Anon conspiracy theorists

than they care about

protecting school children

from mass shooters

 

the signanficance of July 4^th

coming and going

while we watch

The January 6^th Hearings

 

pulls through my intestines

like I’m crammed shoulder to shoulder

 

in the back of a Ford Escape

with John Adams and every other

man I’ve been related to

 

on a roadtrip to nowhere

poorly attempting

to hold in a fart

 

laced with the odor

of personal responsibility.

 

I’m reminded of when Trump

told the Proud Boys

 

to stand back and stand by

and the role the choices

 

my ancestors made

played in getting us

here in the first place

 

then I try to picture

what it would be like

to live in a world

 

where doves

and wolves

 

bathe each other

in truth.

 

When my wife

ran for City Council

the question she was asked most was

who is going to watch the kids?!

 

---

 

Domesticated

Putting Domestic

before Terrorist

makes them sound like

 

The Budweiser

of Mass Shooters

 

like even if they’re wrong

at least they’re trying.

 

I wish the newspapers

meant domestic

 

like clean under the fridge

 

at least that would be

useful.

 

Why not say

domesticated

 

like take the Proud Boys

to the dog park

 

like we taught them how?

 

Or does

domesticated

sound

 

too much like

radicalized

 

too much like

pledging

allegiance?

 

---

 

My Dog’s Name Is Not America

My dog’s name

is not

America

 

but he did

climb on a table

he couldn’t get

down from.

 

Now he knows

everything smells the same

since the engine started

spreading the scraps in a way

it looks like he’ll come away clean

 

till a good wind hits

and suddenly I’m wearing

a shiny green suit at a funeral

 

I don’t think I’m dead

but this isn’t living.