The Division by John Toivonen
We have been told that we do not belong,
those of us who think in patterns,
those of us who study metaphor and matter
and seek to join thought to lyric song.
The crowd is angry today and plastic cups
sticking with leftover whisky and gin
cling to a demagogue’s words that begin
with a tribal chant that divides them from us.
We who would recount the travails of saints
to seek the searing of the hydra head,
know the people dismiss gold, seek lead,
count value by the pressing of crowns.
The mob demands a looter’s face on the coin
that is given in bold cheers black and white.
Change the image to a loud voice with bite
making it harder for outsiders to join.
Dread no words of the mighty in despair,
for drunken chants so easily enclose
a crowd like me in clashing, dirty clothes
who howl words of desperate hate in the air.
We’ll mob up to put a fist in the face
of every bitch, every stripe, every cuck
who refuses to lick, worship, or suck
the prized flesh of our self-adoring race.
© 2016 John Toivonen
John has published poetry and essays in numerous publications, including Roanoke Review, Midwest Poetry Review, Paterson Literary Review, Blognostics, and The Washington Times. His most recent book of poetry, Song After a Long Campaign, was published by Great Roots Press in 2015.