The Women’s March, Washington DC
January 21, 2017
Streets are overflowing. Buses packed.
Metro stations vibrate. Pinks of every shade
flow and bob like wind-swept Birds of Paradise.
Crowds swirl and shape-shift as they advance.
Every gender, race, size, ethnic background flutters
forward as one, linked to fellow marchers as if intimates.
We smile at blanketed newborns, grandmothers in dreadlocks,
dogs in “Assistance” gear proclaiming their views.
Laughter fills the air as we discover each new
hand-lettered sign of protest. Cats and vaginas are everywhere.
There is humor in resistance: We shall overcomb.
Orange is the new black. There will be hell toupee.
Sidewalks clog, grass flattens, roadways disappear.
Still we cascade forward, placards and fists raised.
A Latino man sings America the Beautiful. Everyone
joins in as he crowns its good with Sisterhood.
We are leaderless and limitless.
A predator empowered us and we are soaring.
Rage and hope have readied us for transformation.
Today we are flying at the edges of revolution.