Every other Thursday I take her
out to lunch, fold up her walker,  

order her food and get to hear again
how much she hates Trump, hate that man,  

all she has had to say for a year.
Days are spent watching MS NOW.  

They are like me!  They hate him too, 
she swears.  I am flooded with images  

of families enraged by grief, love,
loathing, wailing over bloodied bodies.  

Rows of shrouded civilians, bagged
soldiers.  Hate is poison, this is  

where it leads, I want to say. Can you
get back to decoupage?  To yoga?  

Truth is, no longer able to get out and march,
these are her comrades-in-arms, MS NOW.