I happen to think the most pressing issue is
that the left is going to gulag all of us.
Send us to the work camp on some rattling bus,
condemned to toil, freeze, and die in pris-
on; once our free and fleeting days would whiz
past: now each hour feels perilous
and eternal; time, for the jailed, is treasonous,
betrays itself, while we, like children, quiz
it’s slowing passage—why, why, why, why, why?—
and it, like mommy, answers just because,
goes back to cooking, leaves us wailing on the floor,
or tells us big girls do not need to cry
over every slight, and turns again, and draws
our red eyes to one fact: she loves dad more.