Saturday, March 21, 2020

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


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