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.