American Volta
By Yash Seyedbagheri
they once said every poem needed a volta
a shift
a transition
a turn
but what about this poem
replete with shattered glass, shrieks, screams of
socialism, books spirited away
distortions, banned abortions
tears mocked on TikTok
taking things from others for mythical greatness
Anglo-Saxon nomenclature above all else
another round fired while authorities slink away
Where is the volta?
another news story
another dissection
another thought
another prayer
but no turn
a man throws his meal against a wall
and tries to strangle truth
because he can
and his followers proclaim it all fake
lock dissent up
but you can’t lock dissent up
Let me tell you, I dream of Nazis every night
tossing and turning on sweat-stained sheets
and my name feels like a swarthy scarlet letter
a name mispronounced
a name which draws attention
and no comedy laugh track can drown it out
night after night
I imagine words spat at me
cracking like bullets
terrorist, towelhead, camelfucker
and I see a fist flying into my face
while being chased by a sputtering truck
in the name of so-called justice
the exhaust consuming
I see it beneath the moon’s once luminous smile
behind a Ponderosa
I see it around each turn of a bend
I want a volta
a real volta
a fairy godmother to turn a page
and say it was all a dream
but I wake up
and all I see
is someone’s intelligence
purged and bleeding in a trash can
another conspiracy
about something never stolen
all I want is a fucking, real volta
America
do you know where your voltas are?
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA fiction program. His stories, "Soon,'' ''How To Be A Good Episcopalian,'' "Tales From A Communion Line," and "Community Time," have been nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others. He lives in Garden Valley, Idaho.