by C.J.Sellers
White hair, blue suits and red lips
ruled the decorous front line.
She wandered up like a silly duck
about to squawk at lions.
She stood tall for a child,
at the podium, as all the rest had,
even those two, three times her age.
She’d walked up there to protest,
but to their surprise, she talked about
the voice itself in a sing-song way.
She let her voice go high
and then very low and swung her arms wide
and up as if she really would just give up
And one leg pitched out to the side.
She might have even flapped.
I don’t recall what all she said
amid this circus act.
The whole room was confused smiles
and silence before she walked away.
Defying sense,
the old folks spent millions on a new
nuclear weapons plant that day.