poem
Volume 30, Number 1

A Storm Is Rising

carved in the molding
over the co-op’s door,
swastika for punctuation.

In pen below, We
outnumber you and
we have the guns.

It may be true, but
as usual they’ve
got it backwards.

It should read: “Since
we have the guns,
we outnumber you.”

A bully’s bluster,
but still it frightens,
the writing on a wall.

We’ve worn the boots,
felt the temptation
to stamp things out.

But now it’s us
looking askance and
wondering which

of our lovely neighbors—
the man who fixed
the sink, the woman

who gave us fudge—
would offer us and
our kids to the fire?


—Richard Spilman