by Karen Olshansky
This image, contained in the indictment against former President Donald Trump, shows boxes of records on Dec. 7, 2021, in a storage room at Trump's Mar-a-Lago estate in Palm Beach, Fla., that had fallen over with contents spilling onto the floor. Justice Department/AP via TIME. |
In front of deep yellow drapes
on the stage of the gilded ballroom
stacked in haphazard rows
in the marbled powder room
under the crystal chandelier
behind the commode
piled high like cardboard towers
in a storage closet near clothing
wrapped in cleaner’s plastic
spilled like a garbage can ransacked
by raccoons in cartons overturned
with scattered yellowed
newspapers and photos:
precious papers,
secrets that protect, that keep
us safe, that the braggadocio
hordes for his own pleasure and profit,
a man protected by
slavish minions
and deplorable citizens
in thrall to an UnAmerica.
Karen Olshansky lives in Marin County, California with her husband and a well fed Koi named Pickle Face. She writes poetry in order to maintain her sanity. Her work has appeared in The Literary Nest, Tuck magazine, The News Verse News and the anthologies Lingering in the Margins, Unsealing Our Secrets, and Unspoken.