An independent, ad-free leftist magazine of critical essays, poetry, fiction, and art.

ONE HUNDRED KNIGHTS RIDE IN, ARMOR RATTLING, SWORDS DRAWN, AND I’M JUST SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WITH THIS

We have to accept the things
we cannot change,
they say.

Though I guess I could
overturn this desk in a fit

of spontaneous ecstasy or rage
or something else felt strongly.

I could spin in ridiculous arcs
and destroy this entire museum.

Maybe scientists could coax
electricity from my manic body.

Maybe this could be an answer
to my question of purpose.


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