WE'RE FLOATING DOWN A RIVER AND IT'S 106 DEGREES IN MICHIGAN

by Ron Riekki

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

and she’s in a burkini swimsuit, hijab, with

a Rage Against the Machine-style hat/visor,

and we’re trying to relax, but we talk about

war, and when the tariffs started, I said, then,

We’re going to war.  She asked what I meant,

and I said, This is isolationism.  He doesn’t

want us dealing with other countries, because

the more we can supply everything on our

own, the more we’re setting up war economy.

And then time went by and we’re on a river,

and I’d said we’d go to war at the end of

his presidency, because going to war will

increase the odds we stick with the same

political party, the war party.  But she says,

No, I don’t think he’s going to wait.  I think

he’ll go to war soon.  We disagreed.  She’s

from Iraq.  She sensed it.  She told me her

PTSD is so strong, her hypervigilance is so

extreme that she reads rooms, feels when

there’s tension.  But it’s the same with our

world with her, how she can sense a war

coming, told me about the attacks on Iran

before the attacks on Iran.  And we’re on

a river.  And we’re floating.  Inner tubes.

Trying to relax.  But we talk about wars.

She says, I’d like to speak out and say every-

thing I think about what’s going on, but I can’t.

I ask why.  Because, she says, They’d kill me.

I ask who would.  She lowers her voice.

We’re on a river.  We’re trying to relax.

It’s 106 degrees.  What are we doing to

the earth?  What are we doing to each

other?  She whispers.  She tells me her

fears.  I tell her she needs to write it in

a poem, in nonfiction.  I can’t, she says.

Then in fiction, I tell her.  I can’t, she says,

They’d kill me.  We talk about Malala

Yousafzai.  We talk about the hijab, how

she loves to put it on, makes her feel

closer to Allah.  We talk about the view,

stunning, the shimmering on the water,

hypnotic.  We talk about the awe sounds

in God and Buddha and Yahweh and

Allah.  And even in her name.  A name

that is tied to God.  And we float and

we talk about war.  Surviving.  The heat.

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

YEAR’S END: 2013

by Frederick L. Shiels

                  to Richard Wilbur, with appreciation


December ends with thoughts of where we’ve been,
this year of typhoons, popes, dead heroes, Chelyabinsk

Chelyabinsk? you say, mark February’s sky-burst meteor attack
showering space rocks on Siberians fourteen miles below,

Nine thousand miles southwest, nine- months, three- weeks on,
they lay to rest man meteor Mandela in rose Transkei earth,

And from sublime to otherwise, our laptop screens parade
cool images of chemical-dead Syrian children, kids twerking—pick the best,

Lessing, Thatcher, Dear Abby leave the stage,
Hugo, Seamus, Ed Koch, to name a few, Adieu,

Fifteen year old Malala inspires her World in Pakistan,
Old Benedict resigns in Rome, New World Francis takes the papal helm

Liberation theology? gays "OK!", Abortion—wait and see,
Images not quite frozen: Nature flattens houses, people-- Oklahoma, Tacloban,

Late August, Voyager  streaks beyond the heliosphere’s dark edge
thirty six years, twelve billion miles past roaring over/out of earth,

And so much more, we “fray into the future” then,
But wait-- what was the year for You, my friend?


Frederick L. Shiels is a historian, professor and poet living and writing just north of New York City. Recently he has published poems in The New Verse News and will appear in the Winter Edition of Sixfold. He has a political blog, and his most recent book is Preventable Disasters: Why Governments Fail.

URGENT INVITATION

by Peg Quinn

        1.

I heard how you boarded a van,
asked which girl was Malala

then shot her in the head.

        2.

Your fear-riddled act made
brave words famous.

        3.

I teach at a school that gives tours every Tuesday.
Come.
Don’t bring a gun -

we don’t allow gum.

                     4.

All day that I gathered my classes outside
to look at the sky, wanting to make sure
the children noticed enormous dark clouds
stealing our view of the mountains while
the sun’s piercing light dazzled
the mounting storm’s edges, creating
exquisite lines.

We had to shield our eyes.

        5.

Wind-tossed hair and dresses went unnoticed.


Peg Quinn is a 2010 Pushcart Prize nominee, art specialist at a private school and mural painter.