the history toward which
the country slides will be

memorized in the future
with unglamorous words,

a bitter taste on tongues,
the sound of heaped up

wailing, and the Rose
Garden haunted by all

the anonymous dead in
the deserts, mountains,

cities, and islands in the
middle of vast seas. the

future made last week by
the president’s tweets spread

ignorance across the land,
conceited tales ringed with

the scum of nothing good
done, and citizens swayed

by rabbit punching lies to
live quietly in these times.

the history the future will
bitterly speak, the stories of

from the public squares, the
marches on town streets, the

indecorous men who paraded
hate covered with white sheets,

the elected idiots who came to
their defense, will ask of every

citizen with so much life made
thoroughly afraid what now is

— h. j. Recinos