I HEAR AMERICA CRYING

by Judy Trupin

holding in their fingers the shreds of constitution
tattered perhaps beyond repair
The insurrectionists running free, absolved
I hear America crying
the carpenter and the mason being dragged away
by the chilling iceman
their families slipping on their tears
and murmuring to each other
What is this land in which we dwell?
A boatman turned pilot ferries them away to 
prisons in countries unknown
I hear America crying
as judges erase the law of the land
another pilot does not cry but grits his teeth
as he drops his bombs
preserving his president’s honor but nothing else
I hear America reeling as yes becomes no
and truth morphs into lies
I hear America whispering
too afraid to sing
to afraid to shout
huddling in their homes
uncertain what the night will bring
or when the night will end
and if they will sing 
and if they will sing
again.

Judy Trupin lives, writes, and thinks in Pittsburgh, PA. Walking, teaching and practicing yoga and singing to her plants keeps her sane.

ALT OR REALITY? INAUGURATION 2025

by Judy Trupin

I enter uninvited

faceless

masked or maskless unseen

I hide under a chair facing backward

a metal prong pokes my back

dagger to my heart no less

2016 flies high in the sky

banners everywhere

too late now for pussy hats

dragon suits or chimera wings

you and you and you

triumphant

trumpet 

aglow with glaze of your private galaxy

while we the countless uncounted

crouch

the nation visible

here where you do not look

or if you do 

crush under your boots 

as you rise we fall

the dawn no longer ours

not rock not river not tree

we the

hopeless, 

dreamless

 unseen.

Judy Trupin writes, thinks, and votes in Pittsburgh PA.

OUR PUSHCART PRIZE NOMINEES

The New Verse News is proud to announce its Pushcart Prize nominees for poems published in 2023, and it invites you to click on the links below to (re)read them:

Published FEBRUARY 15, 2023

HAZE by Ron Riekki

 

Published FEBRUARY 17, 2023

HOW MANY MORE? by Laura Apol

Published AUGUST 13, 2023

SHISHI-ODOSHI IN THE CONSTITUTION GARDEN by Richard L. Matta

Published OCTOBER 15, 2023

WHEN ALMONDS APPEAR by Judy Trupin

Published OCTOBER 27, 2023

I HEARD THE NEWS, AND MEANING ERUPTED by Mohammad Javanmard

 

Published  OCTOBER 31, 2023

WHERE DO YOU GO TO DIE? by Adele Evershed

WHEN ALMONDS APPEAR

by Judy Trupin

Before we speak of war

of enemies

of those deserving to die

please imagine your grandmother

in her lilac flowered housecoat

nylon, I think

holding out a chipped blue plate

with slightly burned almond cookies.

you don’t like almond cookies

but you take one

chew it out of love

your grandmother smiles

and you return the smile.

as you lean in to hug her

her image dissolves into the other

the one you have learned to hate

the ones whose offspring perhaps are killing your neighbors

as your relatives are perhaps killing hers.

her bones are sturdier than your grandmother's

the skin on her arms a few shades different from yours

her dress a soft moss green

but she still holds the chipped blue plate of almond cookies

an offering

you invite her in

you'd like to ask her to call in her offspring

and you will invite your parents, uncles and aunts

to sit together 

smooth out all that matters

but that is not to be.

your grandmother returns

scatters almonds on the countertop

one for every child killed this week

dough appears

you cannot tell from where.

the grandmothers in tandem

pound smooth and roll

partition it for the almonds

one for every child 

you watch 

you count the endless stream of cookies

as tray after tray  is set in the oven.

Outside

the war goes on.

Judy Trupin is a writer, yoga instructor and teacher of adult immigrants. She has recently left New York City behind and is exploring life in Pittsburgh.