Anxiety

Anxiety

Facebook
Twitter
Email
Flipboard
Pocket

Cat claws on the heart’s tin roof, each breath
a locomotive running off the rails,
the switching signal’s warning rat-a-tat,
I’m up too early, the alphabet net snags
and tears, moths, then motes, then gone. What I love,
I undo, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.
No one knows me, matchstick Guy Fawkes doll,
my burnt head micro-ember sunset gleams,
day moon hostage to the dark’s slant dream.
What ghosts I have I won’t or can’t give up.
Impossible to love or leave, poor self
banging its head, wanting—what?
As if I knew what I meant or wanted,
baby voice humming: mouth skull smile.

Can we count on you?

In the coming election, the fate of our democracy and fundamental civil rights are on the ballot. The conservative architects of Project 2025 are scheming to institutionalize Donald Trump’s authoritarian vision across all levels of government if he should win.

We’ve already seen events that fill us with both dread and cautious optimism—throughout it all, The Nation has been a bulwark against misinformation and an advocate for bold, principled perspectives. Our dedicated writers have sat down with Kamala Harris and Bernie Sanders for interviews, unpacked the shallow right-wing populist appeals of J.D. Vance, and debated the pathway for a Democratic victory in November.

Stories like these and the one you just read are vital at this critical juncture in our country’s history. Now more than ever, we need clear-eyed and deeply reported independent journalism to make sense of the headlines and sort fact from fiction. Donate today and join our 160-year legacy of speaking truth to power and uplifting the voices of grassroots advocates.

Throughout 2024 and what is likely the defining election of our lifetimes, we need your support to continue publishing the insightful journalism you rely on.

Thank you,
The Editors of The Nation

Ad Policy
x