DEAR WILLIAM

by Geoffrey Philp

"Relationships evolve. Friendship endures."

—Prince William, Duke of Cambridge

I hope I'm not breaking any royal protocols, 

which in my father's time would've gotten us killed, 

strung up on the gallows like Daddy Sharpe, Paul Bogle, 

George William Gordon—heroes who were martyred 

at the king's pleasure for demanding the right to rule

ourselves, a stake in the wealth your empire robbed

and vowed never to return a farthing to unwashed rebels.

And now, you've come into my yard, claiming to be a friend? 

Tell me, William, what kind of friend enslaves another friend, 

pillages and loots family heirlooms of his friend's ancestors, 

brainwashing generations of descendants with a one-sided story 

without claiming responsibility for the plight of the survivor's

welfare, and after four hundred years still can't say he's sorry

with reparations? No, William. This relationship must end.

Author’s Note: My “Dear William” letter to the Duke of Cambridge. There goes my knighthood and invitation to Buckingham Palace.

Geoffrey Philp is the author of five books of poetry, two collections of short stories, three children's books, and two novels. His next collection of  poems, Archipelagos (Peepal Tree Press), uses Sylvia Wynter’s readings of Cesaire and Foucault along with Amitav Ghosh's paradigm to explore the connection between colonialism, capitalism, and Christianity in the Plantationocene. Twitter: @GeoffreyPhilp Instagram: @geoffreyphilp

WRECK AGE

by Alejandro Escudé





“The public needs to prepare for unimaginable information about the death toll and the human suffering.” —Bahamas Health Minister Dr. Duane Sands.


You shall prepare for the unimaginable.
The unimaginable tree that you will use
To construct a boat. The lighting that will strike
You as you’re falling into the pit. What pit?
You imagine that too, though it’s unimaginable.
Food can’t be imagined, unless one is a child.
And neither can healthcare, again,
Unless one remembers playing doctor.
You can’t imagine another planet, can you?
Another President with larger, more capable hands?
A car is a figment of the imagination, a flying car
To rescue you from your home, as it floats
Upon the sea. Wreckage is medieval marginalia—
You can use wreckage to make a poster,
As you might use macaroni to make art.
Can you imagine a stronger heart
To support the death you can’t imagine?
The death that begins on the unimaginable horizon,
Where dark clouds meet the rising sea,
Whispering, then shouting, then screaming
For help from the unimaginable authorities
Flying in on their helicopters, which are nothing
More than dragonflies, hovering above
A shallow pond, and the inundated world below.


Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.