by Amy Shimshon-Santo
“i don’t understand why people keep choosing fascism.” —my mother.
my words are knots,
while I need parachutes.
sleepless from threading imaginary-strategies
potential sentences to disrupt the state.
try lots of periods. . . . . .
put the [killers in brackets]
some writers spin enviable lines,
bumper sticker responses
at the ready,
then go out for cappuccino.
as if the correct terminology
could bring back the dead
my body is tangled,
it can’t sleep for grieving
my head shakes,
remembering do Nascimento’s lyric
eu sou america do sul,
eu sei você não vai saber.
same with everywhere,
imperial windows barely see in
much less out. do something, her body said
the world is on fire
you can only change what you touch
how can a mom bring down a fascist state?
massage therapists post information
on demonstrations, they sing
bring flowers,
and are dragged on the ground by police
fascism comes in all flavors
styles and sizes
anyone can be a fascist
two for one, on sale now
maybe anyone
can be a freedom fighter too.
I want to stop the war
words were supposed to make the world
but mine roar within
i misspell lines, small lions
the people who are doing the fighting
are the ones who must stop.
i want to make them
let's see, i have hot water and a barrel of lemons
try! use your words
stop a war with your body
“we are not all that powerful, “ h says. “its ok,
we are not built for that.”
but my body, made of moon dust
cells and pillage histories believes it is
it dreams of becoming
big as a u.n., an i.c.c. — BIGGER!
a small body, dreams of being
a body of power
she is more
like a garden bird
small and two-footed,
feathered with emotion
while history wears
boots and helmets
carries rifles, barges in
drops bombs and burns
“we will get crushed
if we try to carry the world,” h says.
but that is what the body feels
responsible for
how does a mother
stop a war?
"the people who are bombing must stop,"
the mother stirs, but we must find a way to stop them
Amy Shimshon-Santo is a poet and educator who believes that culture is a powerful tool for personal and social transformation. Her interdisciplinary work connects the arts, education, and urbanism. She is the author of Even the Milky Way Is Undocumented (Unsolicited Press, Pushcart Prize & Rainbow Reads Award nominee).