day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY EIGHT

THE MEDAL OF FREEDOM HAS BEEN BESTOWED UPON RUSH LIMBAUGH

AND I CAN’T LAUGH ANYMORE

The tone deaf informator choristarum in chief

makes the announcement, cueing the choir.

Half the grand room sings laud to the honoree,

erupting in cheers as the hate-filled, fearful,

sack of puss so honored rises to his feet.

The fully-dressed and paid for third spouse

rises beside the honoree, brandishing the

medal on a wide ribbon in both hands.

She gingerly places it around his neck like a

string of pearls longing to be a noose.

He basks in waves of approval, appreciation

for the decades of speaking out loud those

thoughts which the more discreet among them,

the cowards, have always kept to themselves

but which have now been officially sanctioned

in this greatest hall of democracy, congress.

Former recipients look on from the beyond

disgusted, sullied by the newly forged connection

between their accomplishments and his bile.

Edmund Wilson, Edward R. Murrow, Ralph Ellison

search for ways to disassociate themselves.

Pablo Casals, Duke Ellington, Arthur Rubinstein

try to play loud enough to drown him out.

While Helen Keller, Rosa Parks, Harvey Milk

turn their backs and walk away slowly.

But not everyone disapproves:

T. S. Eliot smiles when he thinks no one can see;

Milton Friedman clears a place for him to sit;

and Charlton Heston wonders what took so long.

The current resident of the White House has

awarded a Medal of Freedom to a proud and loud

racist, xenophobe, homophobe, and misogynist

and I just can’t laugh about it anymore.

--M.J. Arcangelini