LAMENT FOR 250

by Jon Wesick

after the Sumerian "Lament for Ur”

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

Gerald Ford forsook the bicentennial and a putrid wind haunts our hopes.

Abraham Lincoln forsook his top hat and a toxic wind haunts the 14^th Amendment.

FDR forsook the Resolute Desk and a loathsome wind haunts the New Deal.

JFK forsook Camelot and a foul wind haunts the Civil Rights Act.

Daniel Webster forsook oration and a scorching wind haunts the Senate.

Sam Rayburn forsook the rostrum and a blistering wind haunts the House.

John Lewis forsook the floor and a stale wind haunts the Black Caucus.

Clarence Darrow forsook the law and a sweltering wind haunts the courtroom.

Earl Warren forsook his gavel and a noxious wind haunts Miranda.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg forsook her robe and an intrusive wind haunts women’s bodies.

Mother Jones forsook picket lines and a desolate wind haunts the union hall.

Jonas Salk forsook his stethoscope and a pestilent wind haunts iron lungs.

Martin Luther King forsook the pulpit and a corrupt wind haunts the ballot box.

Rosa Parks forsook her bus seat and a lethal wind haunts the EEOC.

Edward R. Murrow forsook his microphone and infectious lies haunt the web.

Admiral Halsey forsook the Enterprise and a diseased wind haunts the Persian Gulf.

General Eisenhower forsook Normandy and a virulent wind haunts Afghanistan.

 

One

America, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Liberty Island, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Edmond Pettus Bridge, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Denali, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Grand Canyon, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Golden Gate Bridge, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Mount Rushmore, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Gateway Arch, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Hoover Dam, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Colonial Williamsburg, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Lincoln Memorial, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Liberty Bell, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Freedom Trail, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Yellowstone, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Alamo, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Gettysburg, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Pearl Harbor, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Space Needle, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Crater Lake, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Devil’s Tower, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Everglades, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

National Civil Rights Museum, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Sears Tower, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

Vietnam Memorial, the lament is bitter. The lament is made for you.

 

Two

The Statue of Liberty cried, “The tyranny that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me. The lies that came to be; their lamentation hang heavy on me. The corruption that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me. The theft that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me. The waste that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me. The stupidity that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me. The rancor that came to be; its lamentation hangs heavy on me.

 

“Because of the bitterness in my land, I gave out leaflets that householders ignored. Because of the bitterness in my land, I attended protests that politicians ignored. Because of the bitterness in my land, I posting memes that web surfers ignored.”

 

Three

On that day tyranny gathered, when in the presence of Liberty her nation was doomed, when they pronounced utter defilement of the nation, when they directed its people be enslaved, she did not forsake her land. Truly, she shed tears. Truly, she made supplication.

 

She pled, “Bull Connor, spare our nation,” and Connor said no.

“Lester Maddox, spare our nation,” and Maddox said no.

“George Lincoln Rockwell, spare our nation,” and Rockwell said no.

“Roy Cohn, spare our nation,” and Cohn said no.

“Phyllis Schlalfly, spare our nation,” and Schlafly said no.

“Jerry Falwell, spare our nation,” and Falwell said no.

“George W. Bush, spare our nation,” and Bush said no.

“Steve Bannon, spare our nation,” and Bannon said no.

“Stephen Miller, spare our nation,” and Miller said no.

“Russell Vought, spare our nation,” and Vought said no.

“Speaker Johnson, spare our nation,” and Johnson said no.

“Justice Roberts, spare our nation,” and Roberts said no.

“CBS, spare our nation,” but they capitulated.

“Paul Weiss, spare our nation,” but they capitulated.

A&O Shearman, Cadwalader Wickersham & Taft, Kirkland & Ellis, 

Latham & Watkins, Milbank, Simpson Thacher & Bartlett, 

Skadden Arps, and Willkie Farr & Gallagher capitulated.

“DNC, spare our nation.” They asked for donations 

and brought up gun control.

 

because the billionaires had already decided. 

Elon had decided. Peter Thiel had decided. 

Marc Andreeson, Steve Schwarzman, Miriam Adelson, 

Diane Hendricks, Harold Hamm, Bernard Marcus, Bill Ackman, 

Ike Perlmutter, Steve Wynn, the Winklevoss twins,

and Linda McMahon had all decided.

 

Four

The tyrant started a war—the aware groan. He replaced experts with sycophants—the aware groan. He fired government watchdogs—the aware groan. He fired generals—the aware groan. He fired diplomats—the aware groan. He fired doctors—he aware groan. He closed laboratories—the aware groan. He pardoned rioters—the aware groan. He pardoned drug runners and crooks—the aware groan. He praised dictators—the aware groan. He coerced colleges—the aware groan. He deported Afghans to the Taliban—the aware groan. He sued newspapers—the aware groan. His portrait dominates the Justice Department—the aware groan. He launched retribution campaigns against seashells, senators, veterans, astronauts, FBI Directors and National Security Advisors—the aware groan. He arrested reporters—the aware groan. He tore down the East Wing—the aware groan. He took food from the poor and medicine from the AIDS patients to build monuments to himself—the aware groan. He sued his IRS and awarded himself $2 billion—the aware groan.

 

Five

The tyrant stole from the nation, its farms fallow, its lunchboxes shattered. The arsenal of democracy dwindles—the aware groan. Wind power abandoned—the aware groan. Temperatures and tempers soar - the aware groan. Measles, Ebola, and hantavirus lurk—the aware groan. Voting rights cancelled—the aware groan. Election districts gerrymandered—the aware groan. Troops intimidate cities—the aware groan. Masked agents invade courtrooms and hospitals—the aware groan. Protesters murdered—the aware groan. He imposed tariffs—the people groan. Tankers languish in the Persian Gulf—the people groan. Prices skyrocket—the people groan.

 

Six

The Statue of Liberty laments her defiled home while awaiting deportation. “The tyrant has indeed defiled my nation. He took a pickaxe to its reputation. The world no longer looks to America as a beacon, sends its students to China instead. The tyrant turned Canada against us. He turned Greenland against us. He betrayed plucky Ukraine. He turned Mexico against us. He turned Brazil against us. He turned Albania against us. He turned Belgium against us. He turned Bulgaria against us. He turned Croatia against us. He turned the Czech Republic against us. He turned Denmark against us. He turned Estonia against us. He turned Finland against us. He turned France against us. He turned Germany against us. He turned Greece against us. He turned Hungary against us. He turned Iceland against us. He turned Italy against us. He turned Latvia against us. He turned Lithuania against us. He turned Luxembourg against us. He turned Montenegro against us. He turned Netherlands against us. He turned North Macedonia against us. He turned Norway against us. He turned Poland against us. He turned Portugal against us. He turned Romania against us. He turned Slovakia against us. He turned Spain against us. He turned Sweden against us. He turned Turkey against us. He turned the UK against us. He turned Saudi Arabia against us. He turned Kuwait against us. He turned Qatar against us. He turned the UAE against us.

 

Seven

The Statue of Liberty swelters at Alligator Alcatraz. Liberty, how is your heart? Faithful woman, confined to a flooded tent, how is your heart? Righteous woman, whose torch was sold for scrap, how is your heart? Symbol of freedom, denied a lawyer, how is your heart? Bronze goddess, beset by mosquitos, how is your heart? Inspiration, forced to unclog toilets with bare hands, how is your heart? How long will your imprisonment last? How long will you drink tainted water, eat moldy bread? How long will they deny you a doctor?

 

Statue, return to Liberty Island. Doctors, return to your clinics Scientists return to your labs. Professors return to your lecture halls. Stephen Colbert return to Late Night. Anderson Cooper return 60 Minutes. May voters declare an end.

 

Eight

The tyrant, who knows no humility, no empathy, no curiosity, no compassion, with an inflated ego, an incessant craving for praise, a sense of entitlement, a thirst for power, who boasts, who belittles, who wipes his ass on the law, who was ordered by hate, may he swoop down on the nation no more.

 

Those, who know no humility, no empathy, no curiosity, no compassion, with inflated egos, incessant cravings for praise, a sense of entitlement, a thirst for power, who boast, who belittle, who wipe their asses on the law, who were ordered by hate, may they be shunned. 

 

Those, who know no humility, no empathy, no curiosity, no compassion, with inflated egos, incessant cravings for praise, a sense of entitlement, a thirst for power, who boast, who belittle, who wipe their asses on the law, who were ordered by hate, may they never recur.

 

Nine

Liberty, may your restored nation be resplendent. Like a bright heavenly star may it not be destroyed.

 

As supplicant, the poet offers this invocation to you. After absolving the nation of its errors, may your heart relent toward those who labor for freedom and justice.

 

May the hearts of your people who dwell in the nation be pure. Liberty, in your restored nation, may you be praised.

Hundreds of Jon Wesick’s poems and stories have appeared in journals such as the I-70 Review, The New Verse News, Paterson Literary Review, and Unlikely Stories. He is a regional editor of the San Diego Poetry Annual and host of the Gelato East Fiction Open Mic as well as the NAV Arts poetry reading. His latest poetry collection is Rants of a Cranky Old Man. He lives in Manchester, New Hampshire and longs for gene editing to bring giant wombats back from extinction.

FALSE FLAG OPERATION

by Sahil Mehta

Rama Duwaji is censured

by dim association.

Meanwhile,

the Sharia Free caucus

expands hatred with impunity.

The goose and the gander

must play on separate teams.

ICE is at the airports.

Why shouldn’t the fox be a stripper 

at the hen party?

An alphabet soup 

threatens to jumble the truth.

CBS is tilting at the windmills.

Being a Muslim in America

is antithetical

to our right to bare arms,

says the Congressman from Tennessee.

The only acceptable use of hijabs

is to cloak a woman’s words.

Sahil Mehta was born and raised in India. He currently lives in Boston, MA, where he works in the hospitality industry. His work has appeared in Foglifter Journal (nominated for PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers), Tint Journal (Special mention, Pushcart Prize anthology), Cleaver, Sixfold, South 85 Journal (2023 Julia Peterkin Flash Fiction Award, second runner-up), and other publications. His debut novel Love, Loss, and Lost Causes was published by Rebel Satori Press.

MASS SHOOTING #13

900 block of Worden Street, Grand Rapids, MI, January 27, 2026.

 

“The man charged in the killings of a Grand Rapids mom and her two teenage sons was found competent to stand trial on Tuesday." WZZM_, March 24, 2026

  

by Ron Riekki

 

Photos: Victims Michael Kilpatrick, 13 (right), Jacqueline Neill (middle) and Cameron Kilpatrick, 15 (left).

 

 

“Since the only thing we can be sure of is the abyss”

—Christine Stephens-Krieger,

“What’s Important”

 

“—Only the monstrous anger”

—Wilfred Owen,

“Anthem for Doomed Youth”

 

 

A golf course pulls my attention, the perfection

of the day, golfers growing around every hole.

I drive to another mass shooting, transported

 

with each block slowly getting lower and lower

on the socioeconomic scale, as if it was designed

that way.  It was designed that way.  I park in

 

front of the home where—according to online—

a “family annihilation” occurred.  That phrase.

My God.  The news reports the mass shooter

 

moved into his fiancée’s home; less than a week

later, after he was texted that she wanted him

to leave, he killed her, then went into her sons’

 

bedroom and killed them in their beds.  Because

she wanted him to leave.  ‘Family annihilation.’

The nausea of that term.  I think of John Donne’s

 

holy sonnets: Death, be not proud.  These are

unholy moments, unholy poems.  A Mom, killed,

because she asked him to leave.  They met on

 

Tinder.  What a bizarre name for a dating site?

A combustible, flammable, funeral-pyre word.

One son, 13.  The other son, 15.  The man who

 

killed her called her “Bunny.”  He went by

the nickname “Charlie Brown.”  Killed in cold

blood.  Could you imagine witnessing that?

 

And next door to the house where it happened

is another house.  And on the screened porch,

a woman sits: “Tiffany.”  I ask if she’d be OK

 

with talking about what happened.  She’s not

OK, but will talk.  Looks troubled.  “Sad,” she

says, “Sad.”  She adds, “It’s sad and disturbing.”

 

Says, “This street has a label.”  Kids play

across the street.  The house that the murders

happened looks grey, old, tired.  Tiffany says

 

she didn’t cry when she found out.  “I was in

the bathroom, getting ready for work when

I heard the gunshots.”  She says she thought

 

it was ICE, didn’t report it, saying she thought

it was police, can’t report the police to the police.

She says she found out what happened when she

 

got to work.  She’s dressed in purple scrubs,

says she’s a “caregiver.”  She’s kinder maybe

than any person I’ve spoken to yet.  A softness.

 

This caregiver next to a house with multiple

murders.  She says she feels safe, even now.

“I feel safe wherever I go.”  She adds, “You

 

just never know.”  I ask for solutions.  A one-

word answer: “Education.”  I ask for more

info.  “There’s nothing here,” she says, says

 

“You have to go far to get to anything.”

I talk to her through a screen.  I’ve talked

to so many people at these mass shootings

 

through screens, so many gas-station clerks

behind bulletproof glass and screens, telling

me they don’t want to talk.  Tiffany is talkative,

 

open, hope-filled, where you can feel it, but,

also, stoic-calm.  Her appearance reminds me

of Tiffany Haddish, a similar smile.  On

 

the door, a sign: PLEASE DELIVER

PACKAGES INSIDE THE PORCH.

“The kids need mentors that look like them.”

 

I talk about incarceration and how mentors

can be absent with almost 400,000 black men

incarcerated.  That’s more than the entire

 

population of Cleveland.  Off to the side,

I hear a voice.  It’s her daughter “Stephanie”

who I didn’t even notice, so still.  She says

 

we need to talk about prisons.  I ask what

about them.  It’s quiet.  There’s so much

to say.  I ask what we do.  “I pray about it,”

 

Tiffany says.  She says, “It’s sad to look

at the house.”  The house is right there.

Not yards, not feet.  Inches.  Right there.

 

“She had a rose garden,” Tiffany says.

That sinks in.  The humanity of it.  How

this woman was gentle with the earth.

 

I think of going in back to see it, but

never do.  We talk about being sick and

tired.  The disease of exhaustion that is

 

the gun problem in the U.S.  I say that,

really, it’s impressive, how much we’ve

mastered creating a violent world.  There

 

are so many things that have to be in place

to have this many shootings, like America

is manufacturing this problem, which it is,

 

with its ten million firearms made per year.

Gun sales go up after mass shootings.  I

want to throw up when I think about it.

 

I mention how many of these mass shootings

are poor young black men killing poor young

black men and Tiffany says, “I want to argue

 

that.”  She says the shooters aren’t black.

I ask her if the shooter next door was black.

He was.  The fiancée, white.  Her children,

 

white.  The shooter, 44.  I say it’s not typical,

but it’s also Grand Rapids, explain that when

I go to inner-city mass shootings, it tends to

 

be blacks killing blacks.  “Gangs,” she says.

“Yes,” I say.  I ask if the issue is gangs,

but she talks about domestic violence,

 

which, truth be told, is what this is.  It’s

as if the city itself is distinctive.  The gang-

related mass shootings of Flint, Saginaw,

 

Detroit, Muskegon.  And the white male

mass shooter in Grand Blanc.  And this

interpersonal violence of Grand Rapids.

 

The cities themselves part of the narrative.

Tiffany talks about “the violent system”

of America.  Her daughter adds that it’s

 

a “mental health” problem.  It’s true.

It’s a secret of the mental health field,

but there are retention-based programs

 

where therapists are rewarded for having

high retention rates.  Who has low retention?

Patients who are people of color, poor,

 

men, the disabled, those with deep trauma.

Who has high retention?  Wealthier white

female abled patients.  So therapist who see

 

disabled poor black males can have their

hours reduced, punished for seeing those

clients.  And those who serve wealthy white

 

female abled clients can get rewarded with

more clients.  Loop.  I spoke with a therapist

at University of Michigan where I asked

 

about the lack of training with therapists

in terms of healing childhood sexual trauma

(CST), a complaint I heard talking to a circle of

 

black men in Detroit, and the U of M

therapist told me the problem isn’t that

therapists aren’t trained in CST, he said

 

it’s that therapists aren’t trained in trauma

at all, that they avoid it.  It helps with your

retention.  What’s the cost?  Everything.

 

“We need to talk about it more,” Stephanie

says.  “Why are we cutting funding?”

Tiffany says the problem is “weak men”

 

who “can’t accept rejection,” says, “You

just destroyed three lives and numerous

other family members.”  She says this

 

to the house next door, as if the house

next door is anthropomorphized.  They

talk about how they’re both single, don’t

 

have interest in dating.  “They were driving

me crazy,” she says, “so I left.”  She talks

about loneliness.  Her daughter does too.

 

I’m lonely as well.  I don’t say this.

Perhaps it’s safer to be lonely.  Tiffany

says she’s too busy with her own goals.

 

Her daughter talks about her dreams

of becoming an engineer.  I talk to her

about Michigan Reconnect, how you can

 

get a free Associate’s in Michigan.  She

looks excited.  I tell her about the Go Blue

Guarantee, how you can also get a free

 

Bachelor’s in Michigan.  Then I tell her

it gets better, that you can also get a free

PhD at multiple universities in Michigan

 

if you have the grades.  She tells me she

didn’t know this.  Their cat comes up

and looks at me, a dirty look, a look of

 

You better not mess with us.  I say this

to Tiffany and Stephanie.  They say

it’s their “guard cat,” that his name is

 

“Jason.”  “Named after Jason Voorhees,

from Friday the 13^th.  We laugh.  The cat

doesn’t, slowly strolls away from me.

 

There’s a crash inside the home, like a dish

falling.  Tiffany goes inside.  I hear this

little young voice yell, “She hit me!”

 

Ron Riekki co-edited Undocumented: Great Lakes Poets Laureate on Social Justice.