a political poem

a light breeze
blows in from the West,
it is cooler than usual
in Arizona.
there’s a curfew in place,
protesters are still on
the move
in Scottsdale and Phoenix.

in the background
my daughter plays music
in the kitchen
as she makes dinner
for her grandmother
and me.

earlier we went to
the grocery store.
we wore masks.
few others did.
it’s Arizona.
it’s an inconvenience.
don’t take away our civil liberties.

last night a large moon
hovered over the edge
of forever, and i
counted the few stars
bright enough to outshine
the city lights.

soon i will be back on the road
back across the desert.
the second half of my life
will finally start.
patriarch of my family.

in November i will vote
against the fascist in charge.
but life goes on, either way.
the moon and stars will
still float across the desert,
fight the light of a burning city.
mornings will be calm, seas will
rise and fall, and i will
breathe until dust fills my lungs
and i wake up six feet down
under rock and stone.

Jack Henry is a writer/editor based in Southern California. Recent publications can be found in Raven’s Cage, Horror Sleaze Trash, Red Fez, Rusty Truck, Dope Fiend Daily, Smoking Typewriter, Fearless, among others, He is also editor of Heroin Love Songs and 1870 Press. A new book, Driving W/Crazy, will be available in the Fall of 2020 from Punk Hostage Press. Read other articles by Jack.