November, 2016
November, 2016
by Eamon Loingsigh
We sang notes of love or die,
And now look embarrassed, naive
At our lack of vigilance
Chorus lines for the choir;
Meaningless as polite words,
Cruelty now has its vote of confidence.
On the threshold of moral despair
Boredom reigns
But lady liberty’s body stands unchanged.
A character summoned from the soul of all men
The beast who dominated
In the first book ever written about politics
We cannot feed him, we cried
Angry and righteous, America is transformed:
A repulsive delight is born.
He looks her up and down,
“Sadly, she’s no longer a 10.”
I felt angry, but anger feeds him
She can answer for her self, sure
“Nasty woman,” he called her.
I’m neutral no more.
At a party, other men find it funny too
“The prostitutes uptown must be getting expensive.”
I felt angry, but anger feeds him
She can answer for her self, sure
“I musta had jet lag,” he explained.
I’m neutral no more.
Writing from the dizzy clubs of New York
I left her in the harbor
For a vacation in Newport.
Now I see the men pushing strollers
With subdued anger, vindicated
Mothers pragmatic, stern.
I am struck by the calm,
Nauseated by restraint:
Gift shops at every corner
The armory is now a giant antiques store
Boutiques for flavored olive oils
Someone bought Python Jerky at the jerky store
A thousand channels offering options
Bookstores overflowing with titles
No one’s tired, but Starbucks is packed
They only let the boys play flag football now
You can’t ride a bike without a helmet
To our own feelings, we are a stranger
The love of peace is equaled by a lust for danger.
Yellow leaves falling by the Claiborne Bridge
Winter’s night is ahead
Fertile seeds wither
Brown in the hard ground
Barren branches like dry veins reaching
Frozen on the New England portrait, stillness abounds.
On the threshold of moral despair
Boredom reigns
But lady liberty’s face stands unchanged.
“How do you feel about going to a protest,”
she asks me.
“I’m up for it,” I say.
On the ride back to New York,
We dare not speak to our elders;
The family is split, quiet before an atom explodes.
He looks her up and down,
“If she can’t satisfy her husband, how’s she gonna satisfy you?”
I felt angry, but anger feeds him
She can answer for her self, sure
“If she wasn’t my daughter I might date her,” he smirks.
I’m neutral no more.
We take the D-Train from Brooklyn
Holding hands in sulking silence
Emerging from underground, we smile
The moon holds firm to the east
An amber sunset to the west
As his towers grope the night sky.
On the threshold of moral despair
Boredom reigns
But lady liberty’s eyes stand unchanged.
We can see her from the train too
Distant, on the horizon she assembles
Small and pragmatic, stern
Yet inside, she trembles.
America is transformed:
A repulsive delight is born.
But I hear a voice from the colors of the mind
A voice gentle and kind:
“Stay, lady stay,
Stay while the night is still ahead.”
