1 Poem by Regina Reid

 

Air Strike

In the absence of paranoia
I visit public places 
to look for work as if
the private sector is 
            still around
and
these are not my disciples,
though they follow me everywhere
leading others through distant satellite
as to what to believe:
              something is wrong
we are being colonized into a new America.
Opposition is present where job opportunities
have abandoned.
             On some city blocks every other house
             is divorced. What remains is a vacant neighborhood,
gapping
                         from decay
and not many are brave enough to partner to what’s humane.
People live in places where hardly anything works—
the electricity is off; the heat is a chill, and water
leaves a paper trail—bills stacked for future use.
              Maybe firewood.
An EBT card replaces good credit, and the only checks paid
are to bishops before each night.
                           Why are churches still here? This is metro Detroit.
This is not good.
This is not fair trade.
This is not free enterprise.
This is not capitalism,
and it’s not personal.
             If we are no longer the land of the free
             and the home of the brave,
                          who are we?

 

Regina Reid: MA, English Language & Literature, Creative Writing, earned 2002. Previous worked published in local journals. English and Creative Writing Instructor since 1998.