One Citizen Speaks

Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, / The citizens are mum and speak not a word. (3.7)

-William Shakespeare, Richard III

By Carlene Gadapee

These mummers, this mawkish, profligate troop of liars and cheats and

dumb-show puppets lead us on, always towards destruction. Enough.

I cannot swallow this knot of rage that chokes off air and constricts

my voice. I must speak, even if it’s through clenched teeth, a poisoned

whisper to fouled air. Water. Earth. Spirit. Mind. Body. My body,

our bodies, the body collective, all betrayed while greed is paid in silver

coins. Count them. Thirty. The hand-picked representatives that itch

and twitch to support this artifice, this edifice to ego, clap and hoot and

foment facile outrage; they fill the seats set for them. Their job is easy

enough, only costing their souls. But to tear the curtain back, to expose

the fraud is never a thanks-filled act. What to do? I spit angry words

that fall into dark spaces; they are too heavy to rise.

Carlene M. Gadapee teaches high school English in northern New Hampshire, and she is the Associate Creative Director and Education Consultant for The Frost Place in Franconia. Her work has been published by or is forthcoming in the Aurorean, Backchannels, The Blue Nib, Fishbowl Press Poetry, Think, English Journal, Smoky Quartz, Waterwheel Review, and Gyroscope, among others.