We Blossom

Like well-dressed zombies
wrongdoers threaten from cracked
windows, their broken
treaties masked as 30 second
political ads.  This morning

my nephew’s first permanent
tooth like a scrap
of china jutted from his delicate
pink gum. I turned off cable, mixed
up a Caesar salad & blasted

mariachi to celebrate his immaculate
flowering. Today is not a day
for fighting.  I have put down
my placards, halted
my rhetoric. Tomorrow,

perhaps I’ll throw a keg
party for justice & truth. I must carve
time for the gap toothed six
year old who wants to hold
hands with me in the rain. I peak

into a possible future where atomic
infernos are a child’s
game & surprise—my battle worn
reader, my undaunted
peacemonger—we blossom.