Tonight's Poet Corner: Old Glory's Edge
Old Glory's Edge by Belinda Roddie In this mad, mad, mad world, we cling to iced tea from Starbucks and original dessert recipes on Facebook, and Star Wars memes on May the 4th. We sing along, loudly, with one another on video calls and try desperately to ignore the lag. Echoes of our own melodies in personal choirs. When we return to school, the desks will smell like abandonment issues. And the whiteboards will carry memories on their faces. Memories immune to wipes and sprays. Now scratched out in Arial font. Meanwhile, legs atrophy when crossed too long in meditation or prayer. Up north, the swarms of orange striped beasts are amassing in rotten wood. A man screams in smoke signals as his house belches up pipe bombs in Colorado. The angry insects scream for beaches, for haircuts. Herd Immunity finds its straw hat stolen by Eugenics, who wears it after setting fire to its brim. Freedom is traded for one's life, though once that life is sliced
