Noon in a three star restaurant
By Marge Piercy
He eats a good lunch, the senator
who hates women, especially
those who don’t smile enough
don’t polish his ego or prick.
Pain is good for their souls.
He has a classic dry martini,
the senator who votes to strip
food stamps from children,
health care from old ladies,
clean water from everyone.
He enjoys a hearts of palm salad
while a stream runs through his brain
white, pure as new ice. He knows
who his real friends are, donors.
People with darker skin: can’t
you see how dirty they are? A kobi
steak, death by chocolate. Money
from oil, big pharma, insurance,
utilities, the extremely rich. We’re
superfluous. Nothing to offer
except our lives, our health,
taxes, bodies for endless wars.
He does not represent us
although he spouts the right
clichés that light up brains.
Copyright 2019 Marge Piercy
Marge Piercy has published 19 poetry collections, most recently Made in Detroit (Knopf); 17 novels including Sex Wars. PM Press reissued Vida, Dance the Eagle to Sleep; they brought out short stories Cost of Lunch, Etc and My Body, My Life (essays, poems). She has read at over 500 venues here and abroad.
