by Kaja Weeks
Words have been igniting
from combustible seeds.
The man’s rapid-fire discharges
from a stunned, old, white house.
When resistance flames back,
he bitter- tweets Retaliate—
brags, Bigly for self,
blasts others as Losers.
Pleas blister the air: Help us.
His crass scream pelts Your Fault!
His words latch to Bump-Stocks,
boast of personal nuclear prowess.
Overnight, Alchemist of Annihilation
bares his teeth, hisses high whistles
into the stratosphere so they pierce
new hours and set them trembling.
Minds create sonic barriers to stop
explosions from perforating eardrums,
their missile pods from propelling
into our eyes, through brains,
sizzling down throats,
engulfing our beating hearts.
In that moment of caesura,
pre-word sounds — infant wails —
wrench the border between
silence and cacophony,
parch southern winds —
demand to be heard, to be borne.
We shall not sow these caustic seeds
he renders onto beloved soil.
Kaja Weeks is a poet and essayist who often writes of music and healing. In addition to being a graduate of New Directions: Writing with a Psychoanalytic Edge, Weeks maintains a career as a clinic-based developmental music educator, which integrates the work of Stanley Greenspan and Serena Wieder. When young children’s ability to engage and grasp verbal language is compromised, she harnesses the power of vocalizations and relational rhythms to elicit communicative interaction.
- Cover Photo by Paul Hanaoka.
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