I hadn’t dealt with coulrophobia.
Certainly arachnophobia and the curse of itchy tags
were among the chief commanding concerns.
This is different.
They are half Latinx from my side
and go to temple with their father.
They’ve been surrounded by the hygge
of a small diverse town. They slept well.
What do I say now that they’re woke
by klaxons in a post-truth world?
You are worth fighting for.
Song Choice: Dear Theodosia from the play Hamilton
This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Word Count With Mama Zen