I’m shaking my head all the time
and it looks like a tremor, it looks like
Parkinson’s. But in fact it’s negation.
It’s: No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
It’s disbelief and disapproval,
refusal to accept what’s unacceptable,
what’s so unspeakable I can only
cover my mouth and wonder how such people
can think such things. It’s unthinkable,
yet we who think it’s unthinkable
could very well be in the minority. I shake
my head and cover my mouth
and groan. Are you sick? a man asks me
at the post office. Here, take this.
And he hands me a red tote bag
with MAGA emblazoned on both sides. No
thank you! I say, and vomit directly into it,
cover my mouth, and shake my head
and leave him there holding the bag.
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| AI-generated graphic from Shutterstock for The New Verse News. |
Paul Hostovsky's poems have won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, the FutureCycle Poetry Book Prize, and have been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, The Writer's Almanac, and the Best American Poetry blog.
