Poetry
Foot Massage from Donald Trump
Lucille Lang Day
In my dream, I won the foot massage
in a poetry contest, but he wasn’t into it.
Massaging my right foot, he seemed
distracted and didn’t press hard enough.
When I asked how he felt about it, he said
he’d rather give me something else.
What did I want? My winning poem
was titled “What I Want” and listed
things like an end to the war in Ukraine,
a ban on assault rifles, and saving
the black-footed ferret from extinction.
I wasn’t hopeful but wanted to show him
the poem just in case there might be
something he could help with, but
I only had one copy and didn’t want
to hand it to him for fear he would
get angry and tear it up, so I pulled
my foot away and told him I’d make
a copy so he could select my award.
My office was in the next room, but
my copier was gone, and the room was
being used as a preschool. Looking
around for another copy of the poem,
I found an elaborate gold necklace,
something like Cleopatra might have
worn. I tried to open the clasp to put
the necklace on, thinking it might
impress Trump and inspire him
to do some good for a change. Then
it occurred to me I could just leave
with the necklace. Why not? It didn’t
seem to belong to anyone, but I
couldn’t open the clasp. How long
would Trump wait? I was worried
about the ferrets. Then I woke up.
in a poetry contest, but he wasn’t into it.
Massaging my right foot, he seemed
distracted and didn’t press hard enough.
When I asked how he felt about it, he said
he’d rather give me something else.
What did I want? My winning poem
was titled “What I Want” and listed
things like an end to the war in Ukraine,
a ban on assault rifles, and saving
the black-footed ferret from extinction.
I wasn’t hopeful but wanted to show him
the poem just in case there might be
something he could help with, but
I only had one copy and didn’t want
to hand it to him for fear he would
get angry and tear it up, so I pulled
my foot away and told him I’d make
a copy so he could select my award.
My office was in the next room, but
my copier was gone, and the room was
being used as a preschool. Looking
around for another copy of the poem,
I found an elaborate gold necklace,
something like Cleopatra might have
worn. I tried to open the clasp to put
the necklace on, thinking it might
impress Trump and inspire him
to do some good for a change. Then
it occurred to me I could just leave
with the necklace. Why not? It didn’t
seem to belong to anyone, but I
couldn’t open the clasp. How long
would Trump wait? I was worried
about the ferrets. Then I woke up.
Lucille Lang Day is the award-winning author of eleven poetry collections and chapbooks, two children’s books, and a memoir, Married at Fourteen. Her latest poetry collection is Birds of San Pancho and Other Poems of Place. She’s also the publisher of Scarlet Tanager Books and has edited three anthologies. lucillelangday.com
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