I look at the photo Pretend it’s a mirror Tilt my head to one side Open my mouth Hoist my flag Think what she is saying It must be a sound A guttural roar that sprays The glass in front of her With a deadly streak of saliva
Or
Maybe I have it wrong she wasn’t supposed to be there. Wrong time, wrong place And she wants to get away She hammers on the door Please let me in
Please
Or
She is not spewing hatred She is singing opera! Something urgent and tragic La Boheme Mi Chiamano Mimi She has to hold that one note for such a long time That she’s almost out of breath And she can’t quite finish
Or
Maybe her life has been hard An abusive relationship Kids who struggle A job that overwhelms And maybe she has actually tried to understand Why she needs to stay in, wear a mask stay safe But it’s not that easy If you don't have money and if she doesn’t go back to work SOON She won’t have enough to pay the rent Or feed her kids
And
That abusive relationship? He’s next to her In the MAGA hat Prodding her in the back With his Glock 360? Pushing her to the front Before the photographers Letting her scream Be photographed Lose her job Be vilified by the rest of us Called a zombie A whore A death angel
If
If only those doors could open And she could come through On her own Sit on a chair 6 feet away In a calm, quiet room Perfectly sterile Where I could hand her a mask A martini Some crudities And I could try and find Some kind of connection Some common ground Some understanding Some fucking clue about Why she persists on singing La Boheme Pressed against a door With her mouth wide open And her eyes full of fear
And why she needs an American flag
When the opera is obviously Italian
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