Riddle of National Sovereignty

Brown body writhing in orange
flames; scents of burning hair
and flesh—so, how do you say
Lynching in Spanish?
Torched clinics were hollowed
out shells without medicines and
Hoarders warehouses stay stuffed
like piñatas while shelves and bellies
are stuck on empty—so, how do you
say sabotage in Spanish?
Vultures prancing like red,white and blue peacocks
bloody talons pounding cold coup-coup clocks
To bloodthirsty butchers like Bolton, Pompeo and Pence
the notion of national sovereignty makes no sense

The smell of sulfur, of hidden hands—
Hitmen— mired in the ‘90s—1890s…
Rouge state actors craving coltan,
bauxite, gold, gas, oil from the soil—
Flaunting the rule of law, pulling
strings of stooges, strangling aspirations,
dreams— making another economy scream
Vultures prancing like red,white and blue peacocks
bloody talons pounding cold coup-coup clocks
To bloodthirsty butchers like Bolton, Pompeo and Pence
the notion of national sovereignty makes no sense—
Makes no sense to criminal champagne, caviar,
Cayman Island crowds— Brooks Brothers klansmen,
bedfellows of butchers confusing embassies with
slaughterhouses

Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC. Read other articles by Raymond Nat, or visit Raymond Nat's website.