What Rough Beast | Poem for November 16, 2018

Susanna Donato
Late Autumn, Family

For the mourners

My redneck uncle
(his term, not mine, though I confess
I have adopted it)

—the one who mounted
a Trump sign the size of a tractor
in his front yard—

so I heard
though I did not see the sign
could not bear to visit for a final goodbye—

has fallen silent
on Facebook after years of hilarity
and by hilarity

I mean photos of snarling
Hillary, and ape memes
of Michelle, of Barack.

Which change of heart
precipitates this silence?
The disasters and the war

threats or memory
of my paratrooper grandfather
or preoccupations?

He has a new puppy
so I hear, I haven’t seen him
since the perfect day

the rain held off,
he said I love you sweetie
at the rocky spot

where men with ropes
gave over to faith’s final gulp
basket ash concrete

confetti and lavender
mixed with soil and the not-tears of men
for she who made us

one rose on the tray
when he brought her breakfast
each morning, so I hear



Susanna Donato is a Denver-based writer whose poems have appeared in Entropy and Columbia, and essays have appeared in Proximity, Okey-Panky, Blue Earth Review, and elsewhere. Learn more at www.susannadonato.com or on Twitter @susannadonato.

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