Jun 28 • 4M
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Poetry, fiction, and essays by Sherman a alexie
This poem is pre-approved by those in charge of truth. It won’t be disturbing. It won’t offend. It lives to serve you— to placate, flatter, and woo your politics. It’s an ode to your wounds, be they surface or bone-deep, ancient or recent. This poem is pre-approved by those in charge of truth and the definition of truth. Is truth a root? A tree? A starling in that tree? Does this birdsong bend and serve? Yes! It trills and thrills, it flatters and woos you, you, you, you, you. Do you feel soothed? This poem gathers lumber and nails to build a fence between what is approved and what is not approved. Your side is safe. The other side is a strange zoo. Look at those humans, so wrong in their wildness. Don’t feed them. Don’t reward their howls. Don’t let them woo and fool you into changing your mind. Those damn brutes are dangerous. Let this poem be your only friend. It will provide you those truths that you’ve pre-approved. This poem is a mirror. That’s your face. Make yourself swoon.