This poem is tipping at the tipping point. Written in the era of magical thinking. After the insurrection and before whatever happens next. Written in the age of mask wearing and mask shunning. This poem doesn’t know if Amurika is liberating or going full cheese MAGA. This poem was shot through a Texas gun and this poem destroys guns. Written in the age of choosing our pronouns and the fruition of Atwood’s prophecy. After our first Black President but before our first Woman President or Queer President. This poem knows that this is how fear and change are made. Written in the afterbirth of future foster children and between gaps of justice. After Jim Crow but before Reparations. This poem was written on Turtle Island and gives out tickets to colonizer descendants who do not know where to go. This poem collects questions, rage and fragment answers, seeking recipes on scrolls. Written in starlight but soaked with blood. After the solutions have been catalogued but before we rise and rise like we never rose. This poem will soon be dated and hopes to fade in flickers and crisp of springnote. This poem wants to scream in uproar and die amongst the warriors for utopian gleams.
Julie Bolt is a writer, educator, and an advocate/activist. She writes poetry, short stories and scholarly essays. Her book is Pedagogy for Democratic Practice. Her poetry has appeared in The Raven’s Perch, Shot Glass Journal, The Red River Review, Slow Trains, New Verse News, Home Planet News, Celestal, Mutha, the punk online journal Zygote in My Coffee and Writing in a Woman’s Voice, amongst other online and print publications. Julie is an Associate Professor of English at Bronx Community College of the City University of New York.
A Song for Julie