Don’t tell me you spent all your allowance
on comic books, or you used to stay up until
daybreak, your knees shaping a tent under
the covers, a weak flashlight, Superman,
Supergirl, Batman, Spidey and the mutants,
the whole gang rotting your brain, your eyes too.
Did you stash your valor between the mattress
and box spring, your rotting brain leaping tall buildings
at a single bound, ready to keep evil at bay, fighting
for, oh, truth, justice, and the American way.
Did you heft yourself out of bed on time
for first period, or did your rotten brain let you
snooze, then snooze some more? Did it make you
listen to rock ‘n roll, sing "Sympathy for the Devil"
as you walked to school? Did it know what
"Satisfaction" really meant? And so what if
your brain did rot? Blotchy, dark, and spongy,
a not-so-fresh potato, or cottage cheese
in the back of the fridge with curds of green mold
lacing through? Would it rot all at once? Or
one day no rot, one day riddled, one day a lot?
So here you are, it’s minutes before midnight,
kryptonite closing in, fascists tunnelling
into Fort Knox, your knees a tent under
the saggy covers, nothing left to lose. You’re
scrolling through headlines at a single bound,
seeking truth and seeking justice, index finger
on your phone tapping with the dexterity
of the Incredible Hulk threading a needle,
the fate of the free world to defend,
secretly shouting Shazam, pushing send.
Bonnie Proudfoot's fiction, poetry, reviews, and essays have appeared in journals and anthologies. Her writing has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart. Her novel Goshen Road (OU Swallow Press) was the WCONA Book of the Year and long-listed for the PEN/ Hemingway. Household Gods a poetry chapbook, was published in 2022 (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions). A full-length poetry collection, Incomer, is forthcoming on Shadelandhouse Modern Press. Bonnie resides in Athens, Ohio.