What I Did When It Mattered

What I Did When It Mattered

An accessory to ICE, I drink my coffee
and eat my cereal,
worry about my old dog
who walks closer to death every day.
I worry about my children
and the tasks I should be doing for work
but let slide
as the world gets hotter
and people I don’t know are arrested
and taken to prisons
built just for them.
An accessory to genocide in Gaza,
I consider which shirt to wear today,
which pair of pants.
I worry that I’m gaining weight
and resolve to get back on my diet.
Maybe I won’t eat a donut
at the poetry group tonight,
but I probably will.
An accessory to the end of democracy,
I run errands
to the post office and grocery store,
drink another cup of coffee,
worry about my blood pressure
and my heart.
It was sweltering yesterday
and the world’s light faded
a little faster than the day before.
It’s worse today.
My old dog won’t be with us much longer
and I’m very sad about that.
My kids will cry when it’s time.
Jesus, I’m getting fat again.
What can I do?