Week 3: The Debate


Bile churns into nausea, flooding my stomach

I feel untethered and ill, at the idea that

His squinty eyes, and that god awful orange hair

would represent US to the world.

I have seen this sight on my TV before–  vague ideas and a stump speech about plans to save the economy.

Light jabs from him to her, and back again, like jousters.

Dread solidifies like cement in my jaw, waiting, no, praying,

His mask will melt to reveal the horns and red tail of his true self.

I tense my brow, compelling my third eye to curse his confidence and that pouty mouth.

Panic takes hold.  I flee to find a sugary dessert to ease the anxiety.

She jabs at him, saying he will try to get out of paying his share of taxes

“Such a nasty woman”

It bellows from his microphone, as viewers hold their breath to take in what happened.


Nasty?   An incongruent reaction to a policy proposal.

My jaw loosens, and I exhale with relief.

A speck of guilt occupies my conscience, that I have been wanting another human to blunder and ultimately, fail.

But only just a speck.