Tomorrow's History
Poetry by Lynne Ellis, Katherine Riegel, Mark Williams and Abby E. Murray
Dear Readers,
Yet again, America stands at the gates of an election that pits the desire for vituperation against our better angels. The déjà-vu is real. The promise of a peaceful election or transfer of power is not. Today’s news is tomorrow’s history, and our open call on the 2024 election is underway. We encourage poets near and far to vote and write, in that order, wherever possible:
Tomorrow we will learn whether repeating a violent past is as easy as calling it by a different name—in this case, ‘love.’ That’s because, over these past couple weeks, Americans found themselves enrolled in a deeply revisionist history session. Trump called the January 6 insurrection a “day of love.” He called last Sunday’s Madison Square Garden rally a “love fest.” Later, it broke that his rally kicked off with a racist takedown of one of the most beautiful and vibrant communities on earth. So then he proclaimed that “nobody loves Puerto Rico more than I do.” (He didn’t mention that his administration spent years blocking billions in aid to the devastated territory after Hurricane Maria.) And on Wednesday, he turned his affection to the future. The ex-president, whose judicial appointments left 1 in 3 women in America without access to reproductive care, told us he wants to “protect the women of our country … whether the women like it or not.” As has been long true, Trump’s purple prose is the shade of a wrist twisted past volition, a blossoming bruise, a body politic under siege. There are no flowers here. No chocolate hearts, no therapy, no apologies. Nothing one might ever misconstrue as justice or even a reply. Only a will-to-power, bleeding with the will-to-forget.
This is an election with no easy answers, and poets aren’t restrained in their trepidation. Below, Lynne Ellis writes on the conundrum of hope in the dead heat of a toss-up election. Mark Williams finds shared fences don’t always make for shared reality. Katherine Riegel gets us grounded by looking way, way up. Abby E. Murray writes from the thinning veil of their Hallow’s Eve porch. And from our archives, a timely tour of unforgettable headlines by Tara Campbell, Matthew Murrey, Kate Burnham, Emily Ruth Hazel and Roxana L. Cazan.
Right now, the most important thing to remember is that our history is not yet spoken for. The election will be held tomorrow, Tuesday, November 5th. U.S. readers, if you haven’t voted early, check your voter registration status and find your local polling place right here.
In poetry,
Elle Newton
Editor-in-Chief
Poets Reading the News
Hope Again / Again, Hope
Lynne Ellis
“All of this is true.
The country will be changed...”
I Buy a Star Projector to Get Me Through the Election
Katherine Riegel
“It wasn’t easy. It isn’t now. It won’t be, ever...”
Cul-de-Sac
Mark Williams
“How our conversation moved from tree destruction
to his complaints about Venezuelan gangs in Colorado
and how you can’t go anywhere without hearing Spanish
and him asking if I watch Fox News, I can’t say...”
Hallowed
Abby E. Murray
“We are on our own together
with only as much magic as we remember
how to find...”
Archives + + +
Vessels of the State
Tara Campbell
“we
will no longer
refuse you...”
Abe’s Awful Dream
Matthew Murrey
“There are no better angels
here...”
Voting Demographics
Kate Burnham
“Sitting on our brittle bridges in middle America, / in the middle of our eroding Highway 66, with a / Ouija board, trying to contact the spirit world...”
Still I Will Not Wear His Name
Emily Ruth Hazel
“The headlines keep calling
our country ‘his,’ America
just another woman, daughter
of conquest...”
Speaking in America
Roxana L. Cazan
“Before I get a chance to ask her,
my mother calls to tell me that she is
watching her speech…”