Open for Business: A poem on exploitation

Since I have submitted this poem to a journal, I’m taking down the full draft.

OPEN FOR BUSINESS

“We are open for business!”

bold Brittanic letters broadcast
by white and brown beaming faces
overlooking an azure archipelago.

But I’m in an airport in the middle of Ohio.

These plastic banners peddle
Fantasy Island to the coke boys

—the frackers and bros—

not young fertile couples…

 

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