Poetry

Cornered

Cora Burch

Deep in the White House,maybe in a closet,the door is shut andbarricaded fromthe inside by anarmoire and a heavy sofa.To his left you might see amachine gun.To his right is a decoy:a rifle labeledthe 2nd Amendment.The man’s face is in shadow.On the wall, his country’supside-down flag hangs crookedly.On the wall opposite,the flag of treason has beennailed to the wallbeside the hanging skeletal figure of ayoung man.A Bible sits,brand new and yet covered in dust,on a barren shelf behind him.On the back wall,a flat-screen TVframes his face.There is a whiteboarddeep inside the closet.An Expo marker is tied on a stringto the corner of the board.It has been recently erased.A picture of his daughter has beentacked to the board with around black magnet,her face false with make-up.If you look closely,you will see thathis right shoelace is undone.The hem of his pants are crooked.Perched on the bridge of his noseis a pair of borrowed glasses.If he knew these things,if he could see these things,he would not let them slide.The man is cornered.He has cornered himself.

Cora Burch
Cora Burch, 13
Van Nuys, CA

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