IT’S SUNRISE IN AMERICA

by Michelle DeRose

Click here to see video Bradley posted on X.

Federal agents detained an immigrant woman with a pending asylum case and a work permit inside [Rayito de Sol] a Chicago children’s day care on Wednesday morning, local officials said. —Newsweek, November 5, 2025

The men are large, clad all-black,

balaclavad like ninja costumes

four year-olds wore last week.

Stiff flinty edges vest their chests. 

They wield the only guns.

 

Two-on-one they seize the teacher,

batter-ram the door with her head.

Toddlers stare, she screams, parents 

shake. The sun barely up for the day,

care kidnapped, spirited away.

Michelle DeRose wants to return to writing poems about her recently departed cat and the spot on her dog's back. Too many images from her original home town, Chicago, block that these days.

NOVEMBER 2020

 by Mary Clurman

Wicked Wind by Tracey Savery Davis

i.
the wind blew wicked hard that day
it howled and blew
it rocked the house
though I slept safe in bed

the storm did rise to hit the house
kill flowers through the land
tear branches down, fell ancient trees
yet did not touch my head 

the storm rose up to strike our house
did everything it could 
yet I and thee so deep in sleep
still breathed, slept easily

ii.
that wind had come to seize our day
it danced and whirled and groaned
to wake up all to hold the land
but somehow let us sleep

why would this wind stop at our bed
why would it prowl away
if not that you and I were here
and sought to sleep that day

That wind has come to call on us
leave eddies, pools in hearts
to cry to you to me who dream
You sleep, you welcome death.


Mary Clurman is a retired Montessori teacher and childcare professional in Princeton, NJ, taking her first class in writing poetry. She has only run for school board but remains aggressively progressive.