The Scourge and the Kiss
Dear Gov. Rick Snyder,
At age 74, I expected my body to
change. To wilt. To fade. But I’m
a frail saltine spread with peanut
butter just for good humor. I expect
to follow road maps and rivers
greater and longer than my face. My
feet, knees, and wrists tightly bound
to make skin tingle. What does it take
to bring help?
As I write this letter to you, like the
needless needles from a dying Christmas
tree, my hair falls. Itchy red spots cock-
roach the crevices of my body—ankle to toe,
wrist to tip, head to calf.
I now use baby wipes instead of water
because the water lingers brown longer than
a relative overstaying their welcome.
Order and discipline must be kept. Punishment
is this scourge of unknowing. I ask the Goddess
to help obtain attain my desires. I invoke Thee
and simply wait for a forfeit, a sweet kiss.
Should I fill a pan with grease, sweet mint,
marjoram, and thyme? Mix it in with my hot bath
water? For here be a mystery.
Yours,
Mildred Carter
~
The Priestess and the Sword
Dear Mr. Snyder,
Can they get on getting to get something
going? You need to start doing what needs
to be doing today rather than telling people
things you are not doing or did not do
yesterday. For months. For years. These days
stick like humidity. Our problems stay.
Here’s something, too, let the nation know
we are still kneeling to this, dealing with the
crisis of water. As my granny says, a woman
armed as a man, girt with a sword, may take
his place as God. A man may only impersonate
the God. Get it gone.
Sincerely,
Beverly Thimble
~
Of the Ordeal of the Art Magical Or Here Are the Facts
Before that day:
- the water held dangerous
levels of lead.
- Shutting the eyes aids the hearing
- Binding the hands increases perception
On that day:
- focus has been on short-term health
and long-term safety.
- Shutting the eyes aids the hearing
- Binding the hands increases perception
After that day:
- who failed will be accountable
- culture valued technical compliance
over common sense
- the scourge increaseth the inner vision
~
The Meeting Dance
In fourth grade, he stabbed himself in the palm with a pencil. In
his four-term career the lead tip still stains his skin. A dot. He
shakes hands and nerves after he speaks of crisis.
A dot connects all. He will mark this
day with stone Flint. Lead. Men kiss women Women
kiss men when the center is reached.
~
A Revision of the Casting Procedure
He wasn’t positive confused
concerned that more than lead sleeps
in the flow. When he was younger, a boy
fishing on the banks of the river, he fell in and
drowned. Does the soiled river run brown
from the lead? 87 people have caught
Legionnaires Disease. Six other
toxins have been discovered. Meet ye in some
hidden shade, lead my dance in the green-
wood glade by the light of the full moon. And,
here, nightmares shall be in full bloom.
~
Donovan Hufnagle is husband, father, professor, and writer. He moved from Southern California to Prescott, Arizona to Fort Worth, Texas. He has three poetry collections: The Sunshine Special is “part personal narrative, epic poem, and historical artifact;” Shoebox is based on true events and is an epistolary, poetic narrative about Juliana’s “past and present, love and lack, in language that startles;” and 30 Days of 19 uses inverted Haiku poems juxtaposed to Trump tweets, capturing the first thirty days of the Covid 19 quarantine. Other recent writings have appeared in Tempered Runes Press, Solum Literary Press, Poetry Box, Beyond Words, Wingless Dreamer, Subprimal Poetry Art, Americana Popular Culture Magazine, Shufpoetry, Kitty Litter Press, Carbon Culture, Amarillo Bay, Borderlands, Tattoo Highway, The New York Quarterly, Rougarou, and others. donovanhufnagle.com; Facebook: dhufnaglepoetry; @donovanhufnagle; Instagram: donovanhufnagle.