V. H. King's Ink

Aside: Sometimes things happen that leave you aghast.

I wrote this poem after the Supreme Court decided to overturn

previous ruling upholding Affirmative Action measures. One day,

I might have more to say about it. For now, I’ll let the verses

speak for themselves.

SCROTUS

when I first heard the news

I thought to myself: they must

have him on something–or have 

something on him. the words

don’t always go sensewise, since

the surgery. but then I asked myself 

if that was just a defense–if I

>

really believed in possibility, wasn’t

there a theory he voted wholly of his own

accord? my spirit recoils at the thought: reeking 

heresy, shame crawling over my skin, stomach

acid churning up my throat as if I’d done this myself.

I grimace at his smile, flinching at evidence

I struggle to face. I don’t know

>

the kind of pressure of a job like that–

suffocating in self-righteous robes, sweating out

the last of your conscience but it still won’t hush,

licking your lips as you grip your pen–

is your signature worth betraying your blood?

>

should I pray for his spirit to breathe? do I

mourn this? I learned the clock won’t stop

its forward march, no matter how many

slowdowns, setbacks. Google maps didn’t 

mention this speed trap, but that means

it can’t predict our resistance. and do I

have any space for anger left in me?

>

yes, but not over this. I don’t even

know if I have pity. choices have been

made: without my voice, denying my voting

power to change what’s already been done:

insult to injury, terror to trauma, sacrilege

against a sovereign body.

>

no, it’s not a direct anger. could it be

called a focused rage? the familiar taste

tempts me to summon my own future,

but I bite my tongue. if I listen to the hurt

and wisdom of others, I can learn a thing

about how to hold my head high.

I’ve still got something in me. I wonder

when it will come out screaming.