Vox Populi
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Kathryn Levy: The Protest
I’m afraid for my daughter.
I’m afraid for the air
my daughter keeps breathing—or
struggling to breathe. I am
afraid for myself—at
night I can hear them,
the huge missiles hissing. Late
at night I can see him—
the president signing millions of orders,
his hand like a robot’s, the ground
sinking beneath him.
I’m afraid of the gases
bubbling in the cesspools—are we
all falling in? My skipping
daughter cries, Mommy, can’t we
go to the circus? —I weep in my coffee
like a clown.
Copyright 2018 Kathryn Levy
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Vox Populi 
Thank you for posting this poem (and your other poems on this site as well). Both plain and profound.
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Thanks, Larry. I’m a big fan of Kathryn’s work as a poet and activist.
M.
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Thank you, Larry! I wish it weren’t still relevant.
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I love the structure and rhythm of this, even though the substance breaks my heart.
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Thank you, Alafair. I’m afraid it wasn’t written out of a sense of heartbreak.
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Oh, I meant it was written out of a sense of heartbreak.
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Kthryn, this is profound.
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Thank you so much.
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I to fear for my grandson
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Kathryn, this is so fine! ‘I weep in my coffee / like a clown.’ Beautiful and stark construction.
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Thank you! That means a lot coming from you.
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