This poem was written during the Supreme Court confirmation hearings for Brett Kavanaugh, a time when the country felt deeply broken. Now, that appears to be a permanent condition.
All day I drove north through the smoke
the turkey vultures rising from the trees
circling, forming into loose black clouds
flowing past me, south, away
All day on the radio, talk of truth and lies
anger and tears, what was said, by whom
and why, all the different kinds of fear
all the roles being played, like in a game
Everything must be consumed, the rotten
and the dead, that is what the vultures
and the radio tell us, there being no choice
but to attend to every foul offering
Hands at 10 and 2, facing America
and the littered road, I cannot
bring anything to an end, the drive
the vultures the radio the smoke
Somewhere ahead is the ocean
Salt, deep, cold, disinterested
My hope is to reach there before
night falls, before it is too dark to see