S. Asher Sund
Security
The problem is they changed
my gate number
and searched me with a wand.
They asked me to take off my
shoes and my belt
and step through a beeping
door.
They made me unzip my skin
take out the metal plate
extract the shrapnel
the fillings
the tongue.
They checked my stool for
hidden explosives.
They prodded my kidneys
they kneaded my heart
they took away my books of
poetry
for the questionable language
and my pens as proven
weaponry.
They got on a stepstool with
a vacuum device
and emptied my brain
of all threatening contents—
the strategies
the doubt
the bad thoughts
the undecipherable codes.
They had me strip
and high-step through a line
of tires.
They called me sir as they
made me
get on my hands and knees
and bark like a dog. Strictly
out of curiosity they asked
me if I knew
any jokes. I told the one
about the guy saying hi to
his friend Jack
while going through airport
security.
They didn’t like that. They
didn’t laugh.
They put me through a machine
they hooked me up with an IV
they plugged me in
and ran all sorts of tests.
They told me I was a
candidate for cancer
and much sadness.
They told me the settings
were off
in my Control Panel.
They told me my knees were
questionable.
They said my eyes were
strained.
They were very thorough. They
left nothing out.
They snapped on rubber gloves
and clicked my hyperlinks.
Afterwards they handed me
back my liver
and told me to memorize a
bible verse
told me to salute the
president
told me to have a nice day.
Above them the TV spoke of
the possibility of war
as if they could just ignore
as if they were just closing
their eyes
as if they just didn’t know
how
to talk about or prepare us
for
the war before the war
the war that was already here
the war at the heart of a
nation at peace.
S. Asher Sund’s work has been published in The Clackamas
Literary Review, Willow Springs, Margie, Square
Lake, and The Comstock Review, among others. |