There are no atheists in foxholes
–source uncertain
On a planet where the sun rises red
and the moon glows amber
like a spoon of honey
in a coffee sky, a virus still rages
like the fires
flaming five million acres
of forests and homes.
Good and bad hair days
have been replaced by
good and bad air days–
And for a heap of weeks,
our air has been a mess.
I mask for ash-filled skies and COVID
all rolled into an apocalyptic brew
in a nation debating masks
all the way to the cemetery.
Now, pestilence snakes
through the White House halls–
Trump got the bug, karmic justice
and just plain disdain
finally catching up with him.
I’m not one to wish folks ill,
though the man throws tinder
on wildfires
of injustice.
I don’t want to be crass, so
I turn to prayer–
May the flame of COVID’s fever burn white
supremacy from his brain.
May walking death’s highway teach him
how much life matters–
black & brown lives too.
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Susana Praver-Perez is an Oakland-based poet. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and journals including Poets Reading the News. Her first full-length book of poetry titled Hurricanes, Love Affairs and Other Disasters is in the works.
Photograph by Mariana Rios Jasso.
________
