When you seize
something don’t just take it,
grab it urgently maybe
even illegally, or perhaps
secretly, but
with the determination of a hard
boiled mercenary or small
child, who on her fourth
birthday imagines she
is Superwoman and, in her play,
confronts the bad guys and plucks
them away from their corrupt
mischief —thus
saving the world. I
wake to routine cable
news interrupted to report Turkish
authorities have taken over Zaman, the country’s
newspaper. Syrian
troops have seized the neighborhoods
of Aleppo. In a suburb
of Nashville today, my cousin decides
between spending her tax return on a thigh
tattoo or a spa day. My neighbors
squabble about vinyl
siding.  I clip
coupons for pot pies, detergent and frozen
pizza. Two days have rolled by since a 15-year-old
walked into high school cafeteria in Benton, Kentucky—
50 miles down the road from me—and sprayed
bullets into 14 classmates. I want to cobra-strike
all this disunity, cut it
down to size along
with my friends, as we assemble
and gain heft and strength—a gathering of
Grizzlies. I want to seize it, watch
my voice grumble and eradicate,
a 500-year typhoon. Wham.
Pow. Kaboom. We make
the change.  I have one power,
Batman says. I never give up.

My friend posts on Facebook, Not OK.
Please help me. A white
supremacist has mowed down
her cousin, Vickie Lee,
in a Kroger parking lot. What can I give
my friend? This galaxy-sized
anger? My willingness
to act? Wolverine bellows,
If you cage the beast, the beast
will get angry. Catwoman purrs,
A long time ago
before I put on this mask,
I was afraid of everything. Wonder Woman spits,
How dare you?
How dare you?