My neighbor has nodded to The Goon, some policies
he approved of—arresting students in despair
over genocide, mass firings, unmarked vans
pulling people off our streets here, in America,
and sending them to concentration camps.
The Goon breathes on his mirrors and peoplequickly evaporate. But what really motivates
my neighbor is his bank account, his investments
dying like those rockets exploding over the gulf
of American debris, so now
he’s finally speaking up. It’s kind of fun,
my amusement for the day, seeing him
chided on social media by the Faithful,
who say pipe down, in six months you will see
how wonderful your life will be.
Abby Caplin’s poems have appeared in AGNI, The MacGuffin, The New Verse News, Pennsylvania English, Salt Hill, Stirring, and elsewhere. She was a finalist for The Poetry Box Chapbook Prize 2024 and a nominee for Best New Poets, Best of the Net, and the Pushcart Prize. Abby is a physician and the author of A Doctor Only Pretends: Poems about illness, death, and in-between.
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