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Issue 19


Rae Monroe

Issue No. 19 • Spring 2018



I said if he got the power
I’d fear for the life of my brother
And you nodded wisely,
Said I’d have good reason to,
Like safety was something granted,
Trickling down the throne to the masses
Us murdered masses
Blood used to be private--
Office homicides, dark alley slayings
Now it drips onto public streets,
In front of delis,
Women wave it, dried on pads,
In front of the Monument
MLK Jr would have gagged
AT the heaps of bodies
We have killed
With our words, with trigger-happy teens
With 27 year olds,
Sex dripping from their lips.
At 2 AM you sent a celebratory text
As he published an epiphanical tweet,
Blood dripping off his face on TV screens
Did you know          
Did you know his son saw?

Did you know every fucking body else did, too?
“Comedians are the last line of defense”
(Jim Carrey, ET red carpet interview),
Neglecting the poets
Screaming in every basement,
Marijuana passed like a joke
On the daily
Friends are so confused
No more plotline, ‘cause this can’t be the finale:
Everybody’s pain sagging
Their sorrow dragging me down
I don’t want to care
I open my heart
But the blood keeps coming—
As annoying as a constant drip—
Senecan slit wrists
Only works in a warm bath
Screw your superstitious 13--
Bitch, I’ve got 1,093 reasons
And they keep coming
They ain’t even attacking
But they keep coming,
Fucking lately.