One man wrests a flag 

from another, the two-ply 

polyester whipping violently, 

just one more splotch

in a riot of color—matched

hats, posters in every hue,

kinetic mosaic. They chant,

agitate. I cannot stand with them.

The work of civilization

is also laundry. Someone 

has to sort clean socks

into pairs, fold them into

a symbol of union. Perhaps

she can read about the rallies while 

she waits for the dryer to sing 

its little hymn of conclusion.

***

Lisa Ampleman is the author of two books of poetry, Romances (LSU Press, 2020), and Full Cry (NFSPS Press, 2013), and a chapbook, I’ve Been Collecting This to Tell You (Kent State UP, 2012). Her poems have appeared in journals such as Poetry, Image, Kenyon Review Online, 32 Poems, Poetry Daily, and Verse Daily. She lives in Cincinnati, where she is the managing editor of The Cincinnati Review and poetry series editor at Acre Books.