Some days I just feel mean. Day 28 of the government shutdown was one of those days. And only because the guy in the White House is commander-in-chief of the flying monkeys.
Letter Home to a Flying Monkey
Snow atop the dam across the lake
powders its rock face like chalk.
Think "white cliffs of Kansas,"
a wall to hold back water,
protecting Oz from a southern flood.
Today you would be cold even if you had feathers
on your wings. You would hate Kansas.
That would be reason enough for us to extend our visit,
but Kansas has many yellow-brick roads
as Dorothy always told us,
even if it’s not home.
Which is to say we plan to stay.
I confess I won't miss you.
You swore you had no choice
but we both know that's not true.
You insisted life would end if you angered the witch.
For those without faith, perhaps that's true.
The Lion and Tin Man say hello.
They laughed as they said it.
You claimed you were glad
when Dorothy freed you from the witch's spell,
but the three of us knew you
well before the witches came to Oz.
We're betting it's only a matter of time
before the Nome King once again entrances you
with his fantasy to make Oz wonderful again.
To escape such a fate
you could take the flight of faith to Kansas
where eyes can see to the end of the rainbow
and love embraces every color.
Which is why I've been asked
by an angel of mercy with silver slippers
to invite you to fly to a new home,
but at least two of us think
you haven't the courage
or the heart.
At any rate, on some days you would be cold
even if you had feathers on your wings.
You would hate Kansas.