Poetry

Elliott Brown photo

By

Charlie Brice

Grace

The whole world’s watching. Ginsberg

chants “Om” in Lincoln Park. The 1968

Democratic National Convention—a police

riot, a howl of violence over nonviolence.

We thought Nixon was the worst possible

human being. We thought he’d lead us into

impossible evil, deliver us to our final end.

We had no idea what was to come.

Nixon was paranoid and a crook, but

he read books, had a world view, and

a sense of shame that saved us from tanks

rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue. Now

we are beset with a man who knows no grace:

a man so petty as to fire his personal physician

for divulging that he uses Propecia to help

his hair grow, then steals his medical records.

Cherry Tree

Lyin’ Peter Baker and the failing New York Times

have accused me of cutting down the cherry tree!

Untrue! Fake News! Sad!

I cannot tell a lie.

I did NOT cut down that cherry tree.

I planted it!

It was the best cherry tree ever.

It was great!

It had the best cherries in Washington

and in our country (which is great

again because of me).

It had the best cherries in the history of the world!

Look at my axe. It’s the biggest axe,

bigger than Putin’s axe, or Rocket Man’s axe,

or Obama’s axe. I can tell you that.

I made this axe myself!

Why isn’t the Justice Department investigating

Hillary and Pocahontas for chopping down my cherry tree?

Unfair! Where’s my Roy Cohn?

Russia, if you’re reading this, I hope you find

the emails where Hillary and Pocahontas agree

to cut down my cherry tree with an axe

given to them by terrorists from Benghazi.

Lock them up! Lock them up!

By the way, there was no collusion between

me and Russher to chop down that tree.

That I can tell you.

I don’t know Putin and no one’s harder

on Russher than I am. But wouldn’t it be great

to get along with Russia?

It was the biggest and best tree ever.

It’s bark is being used to build housing

for homeless Playboy Bunnies and porn stars.

Ben Carson is doing a fine job there.

You know, I said to myself, This story

about Trump, the cherry tree, and Russher

is made up, so I just took my huge axe

and cut the tree down myself

to show everyone that I don’t need

someone else to cut a cherry tree down for me.

I mean, give me a break, it was my tree

and I can do what I want with it.

Charlie Brice

I am a retired psychoanalyst living in Pittsburgh. I am the author of two full-length poetry collections: Flashcuts Out of Chaos (WordTech Editions, 2016) and Mnemosyne’s Hand (WordTech Editions, 2018). My poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, Hawaii Review, The Main Street Rag, Chiron Review, The Dunes Review, SLAB, Fifth Wednesday Journal, Sport Literate, The Paterson Literary Review, Plainsong, Tuck Magazine and elsewhere.