STANDING UP, POURING OUT

by L. Lois

Vancouverites rallied at the U.S. Consulate [last month] to protest the imposition of tariffs on Canadian imports. —City News, March 4, 2025

runways paved through city
blocks for us to walk
places to put our protest
cars stopped
by the coupling of bodies
massing to chant
the poison must be choked
 
texting the message
email chains binding keyboard wrists
worn raw by tyranny
feet shuffling out the door
marching down
cement plazas giving way
to anger echoing between the buildings
 
hubris weights its own downfall
compassion and arrogance
feel the same in a cold heart
the court jester turns to inform
sacred trust scattered across ballots
gathered by the greedy
presumes civility requires passivity
 
voices lift
to swing their signs
feet pound
freedom's patience
taxed and thin
hydrants knock open
spewing cleansing

Author’s note: As a Canadian, I will be joining the April 5th mass movement by gathering with other concerned global citizens outside the US Consulate in Vancouver, British Columbia.

L. Lois lives in an urban hermitage where trauma-informed themes flow during walks by the ocean. She is pivoting through her grandmother-era, figuring out why her bevy of adult children don’t have babies. Her poems have appeared in Poetry Breakfast, Open JA&L, Fictional Cafe, The Mid-Atlantic Review, Washington Square Review, Sparks of Calliope, and other literary publications.

BARK, BITE, BEG, FIGHT, ROLL OVER

by Gabriella Brand

It’s a good day to be a dog

just a dog, with a dog brain

blissfully unaware of red and blue tallies,

unburdened by disappointment,

indifferent to triggers or loud words,

unless someone is reaching for a leash.

It’s a good day to be a dog,

fearless, undaunted, exuberant,

ready for any future, any at all

confident that tomorrow will be 

pretty much the same as today and

the hydrants will be in the same place

It’s a good day to be a dog

keeping dignity when the pit bull passes,

keeping calm when the cats tease,

looking neither left nor right but straight ahead,

putting one paw in front of the other,

tormented by nothing except maybe squirrels.

Gabriella Brand’s short stories, poetry, and essays have appeared in The Globe and Mail,  Grand Little Things, Gyroscope Review, Red Wolf Journal, and more. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Gabriella teaches in the OLLI program at the University of Connecticut.