Tonight's Poet Corner: Awards Ceremony

Awards Ceremony
by Belinda Roddie

I have been
reestablished
and recognized in certain circles,

where the meat is raw
and the wine is way too warm,

and the men and women
(no enbies allowed, apparently)
sniff at stars, their noses

are turned up so damn high.
They wear pearls and cubic zirconia

and peacock feathers in their hair,
fanning and congratulating themselves

over buzzwords such as "progressive,"
and, "woke," and, "anti-racist."

But they choke on Zinfandel
and settle, instead, for Chardonnay.

Their skin, to them, is not just
the color of porcelain - it retains
the delicacy of porcelain as well.

I think I'll take my plaque
and toss it into the bin. What they

offer is pseudo-enlightenment.
I'll none of it.