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Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Showing posts with label flagpoles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flagpoles. Show all posts

Monday, May 15, 2023

SCHOOLYARD ATTRITION

by Zackary Ross Wiggs


Illustration by Golden Cosmos, The New Yorker, May 25, 2018


Texas alone has suffered 17 mass shootings this year and now lawmakers propose ‘battlefield trauma care’ facilities in schools. —The Guardian, May 13, 2023


Cut the flagpoles in two,
since they're at half-mast 
all year round

We could use the extra steel
to make more guns.

Build another Arlington,
for the brave school kids
gunned down in math class.

Hallowed ground filled,
with children full of hollow-points.

Too many thousand yard stares.
Bottlecap metals sewn on chests,
of children with kindergarten war stories.

Senior trips to graveside services,
for those gunned down at recess.


Zackary Ross Wiggs is a writer from Southeast Kansas. A recent creative writing master's graduate, when he isn't writing he is usually found absorbed in some show or book. His works have also been published in Unstamatic Press, Shacklebound Press, and The Joplin Toad. 

Saturday, October 29, 2022

THE NEW NOVEMBER

by Jan Steckel





for Garrett Murphy

 

Late October is the New November,

the nova ember, when all slates

are made new. Ladybug, ladybug,

fly away home, your statehouse is on fire.

If you can’t vote the bastards out, 

drag along your electoral hammers,

spousal skull-crushers. Surveil those 

ballot boxes through the sights 

of your AR13s, only wear masks 

when you’re Ku Klux Klanning.

Proud Boys will be bashers.

It’s the ballot-harvesting festival,

so let’s go smashing pumpkins.

MAGA MAGA make it rain, it’s

lefty-hunting season again.

Kristallnacht’s in fashie-fashion.

Jack-o-Lannister, slide down

the Capitol bannister.

Olly olly oxen free!

Open season/no more reason:

civil discourse is passé,

democracy’s so yesterday.

Grab your billyclubs, shillaleghs, 

flagpoles, sheriff’s star,

little red baseball cap.

It’s mass grave o’clock, wake up, 

smell the decomposing bodies.

Get up off your brass knuckles—

Let the midterms begin!



Jan Steckel’s book Like Flesh Covers Bone (Zeitgeist Press, 2018) won Rainbow Awards for LGBT Poetry and Best Bisexual Book. Her poetry book The Horizontal Poet (Zeitgeist Press, 2011) won a Lambda Literary Award. Her fiction chapbook Mixing Tracks (Gertrude Press, 2009) and poetry chapbook The Underwater Hospital (Zeitgeist Press, 2006) also won awards. She lives in Oakland, California.