Collective poem from the Zoem online Poetry Reading group, September 4, 2020

2020 is a Dumpster Fire

2020 dumpster fire do I bring marshmallows or an extinguisher?

2020 is a dumpster fire
facts are the foam we spray from the extinguisher to smother the rank flames

The 2020 (Tr)umpster fire is the swan-song of wickedness

2020 is a dumpster fire
stuffed with constitutions and brown bodies
food stamps and protest signs
voting machines and brand-new mail sorting equipment
face masks and rubber gloves

2020 is a dumpster fire charring the skin of meritocracy,
and we smell the hair of capitalism burning.

2020 is a dumpster fire, flames eating my family, consuming my happiness, leaving democracy in embers, opening up the dead forest to allow Zoem to spray words on our burnt minds

2020 is a dumpster fire only voting can put out.

2020 is a dumpster fire with a dumpster the size of a blue whale, 
rocket fins aflame and whipping water into steam and bodies into motion.

2020 is a dumpster fire on roller skates
a wild clown circus chasing behind

2020 is a dumpster fire
smelly and unpredictable

2020 is a dumpster fire
a craggy, eternally itchy, middle of the back knife i can’t reach, 
snarling and crackling in the flames
burning away the old
burning away the unjust
burning away the “normal”
offering embers from which to birth a new reality, 
fire retardant justice heralding the dawn of unimaginable connection beyond time and space
let’s get lost in the mind palace together only to emerge on the shores of tomorrow

I found 2020 broken in a dumpster, worked on it with all my tools, adjusted my lenses on it until I found gifts tucked into the corners, but bright like diamonds, and they’re all inside me. 
So I took 2020 inside and fed it from my best stores. Gifts abound. Some I’d never noticed before. 
Sometimes dumpsters hold treasure.

2020, we know the fire: there is not enough water, there is not enough borate
2020 is a dumpster fire with gasoline a-plenty

2020 is a dumpster fire that I will happily piss on to put out
I’ll join you, though I have terrible aim
Ladies, shall we?

by the Zoem Poets