The likes roll in like tanks in Kiev

Comments Off on The likes roll in like tanks in Kiev Featured, Poetry, Writing, Issue 7

By Cayleigh Baillargeon

Last night they lit the Zakim
yellow and blue for Ukraine
I’m sure that made a difference but
I wondered how much it cost
and why not turn off the lights
and donate cash like the people asked.

Their internet is out
but the likes still roll in
Who did we light it for?

Biden offered Zelenskyy a ride out
he refused because the fight is there
he asked for ammunition 
we offer memes and stan his masculinity
we equate it to the size of his balls 
we lament that our lame dick president could never.

There are many ways to help,
offering pink pussy to presidents
who need N.A.T.O is just one
thoughts and prayers are the other.

No one in Kiev sees the post,
but the vibes stay trending.

Maybe that’s what matters.

Without irony
White witches wave white
sage wands and wonder
why that big meany Putin
thinks he can take Ukrainian land.

Imperialism just hits different
when the people look like us.

Ukrainian civilians are taking up arms
 to defend Kiev against the occupiers, 
a man tells a reporter the guns make them less afraid; 
white Americans watching at home nod knowingly
and grease their guns 
the television stays on.

Footage of air raids spliced with Applebee’s commercials 
“a little bit of chicken fried Cold War on a Friday night”
until the love of liberty is too strong for anyone to stand.

If white people can get bombed in Europe,
they can take away our dollar margaritas here!
And inoculate your first grader against viruses!
And say the word GAY!
They’ve already raised gas prices, will they
TEACH THE CHILDREN ABOUT CHATTEL SLAVERY
For Christ’s sake! Does anyone care about the blue-eyed children anymore?
Ukrainians have Instagram accounts!!!
They have followers, THEY HAVE VALUE.

A straight-faced Prince William
tells the room how “very alien” it is 
to see war in Europe
his family believes the best bloodshed
is in Asia and Africa and
who are we to question the authorities,
the bloodline responsible for so much bloodshed.

Tomorrow, I will buy
all the sunflower seeds at Walmart
to start a garden no Ukrainian will ever see
to show my solidarity 
when the ground unfreezes.

I bet the likes will roll in.

At the train stations in Kiev, police officers and citizen volunteers
link arms, work together without complaint
to keep the order 
to keep Africans off the trains
to keep Africans
trapped in a country that would have loved to see them leave at any other time
evacuating white children, white women, and white men first
the way white Jesus would have wanted.

White Americans nod knowingly 
some refugees are better than others
only some people deserve freedom.

A six-year-old boy born in civilized Europe
is killed in a clash and it is extra sad because 
he had blonde hair and his parents know English.
Had he been born in Syria or Iraq or Afghanistan
it would have been expected, accepted
not an occasion
to update my Facebook frame
or offer thoughts and prayers.

His family will never see this poem
but it feels proactive.
The likes roll in like tanks in Kiev
and I know I’ve done my part to help.

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