What Rough Beast | Poem for March 2, 2020

Anna Leah
Liberty

On the night they re-elected their dictator,
he climbed me to the top of Freedom
above rallying song of those fueled
by viktory and patriotism and wild unison.
Their dancing may tear this country apart
fueled by forest seed, bloom liquor, and venison
so intoxicated with beating bare chests they move.

Weighed only with power of enchantment and song
soaring in corkscrew gait
he is sure-footed on their shrines.

Chains of change scare him
but not their danger.
He fears losing the liberty of the wind.

Shakily, I reach out to him
buses quivering the railings
shouts riveting the air.

In his trust, I am suspended in calm.

When the daylight clears,
revealing the mountain mantra of green
absorbing this pull of uncertainty

we’ll see the fertility
free from envy of jaundiced regularity
towards life from rocks
and breaks from unease’s rule.

Anna Leah’s poetry has appeared in Panel Magazine (published in Budapest). Her broadcast and print journalism have appeared on PBS, AJ+, and Brut and in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The New York Post, Brokelyn, and other publications. She holds a BA from Hampshire College in Amherst, Mass. Also a filmmaker, Leah lives in Brooklyn. She posts poetry to Instagram, @ByAnnaLeah.

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