by Marc Swan
"You say you want a revolution... " —John Lennon
Thoughts turn to the Founding Fathers—
an oxymoron perhaps. I envision
them around the hearth,
wooden tankards, pewter mugs in hand
contemplating the future of this new land.
Did they foresee manifest destiny—
a two-coast country,
French and English speaking to the north,
Spanish speaking to the south,
expanse of prairie, native beasts hunted
down, more importantly
Indigenous peoples decimated
in the name of a united states?
What of states,
offshoots of a federal land grab—
thirteen to start then the quest began.
In framing that constitution written
so long ago—
a two-party system
now stuttered and stalled,
amendments sporadic, difficult
to achieve, did they envision
blue states on edge, thick-bellied
red center, chaos, political turmoil,
climate wracked by indifference.
Settled in front of my hearth,
feet resting on the ottoman,
thoughts turn to 2022—
rivers rise, forests burn,
a black sky holds the night.
Marc Swan’s fifth collection, all it would take, was published in 2020 by tall-lighthouse (UK). Poems forthcoming in Chiron Review, Gargoyle, Steam Ticket, Coal City Review, among others. He lives in coastal Maine with his wife Dd, a maker and yoga teacher.
