The Social Contract

By Kelly Fordon

I’ve been thinking about Irish wakes—
what my aunt’s must have been like—
19—killed by her drunk boyfriend
who slammed into a light pole.
For years afterward, my grandfather
ran into the boy around town.
My grandparents believed he would pay—
if not in this lifetime, in the next.
But I heard it nearly drove
my grandfather mad to see his face.
Those were the days before we all decided
drinking and driving is dumb,
a collective decision after so much loss.
What we had tolerated before,
we could no longer abide.
Irish wakes always took place
in the deceased’s home.
Back in those days
they covered the mirrors
so the soul wouldn’t float off
into the nether world instead
of zooming straight up to heaven.
The vigil lasted all night.
The men lit their cigarettes
to ward off the evil spirits.
That’s another thing
we used to sanction—
several of my family members
went up in smoke.
It takes a village, they say.
What I happen to believe
matters little without you
on board. Otherwise, how
would we even set the speed limit?
I was working one day
behind the circulation desk
and a man walked in
with a Glock strapped to his chest.
Who he was,
what he intended to do,
we had no idea.
He was exercising
his rights, and it made me think
about my aunt flying through the windshield,
my uncle hacking up a lung,
bombed-out hospitals,
preemies huddled together
in shoe boxes,
kids who were just having fun
at a music festival,
my son cowering
in his MSU apartment,
a killer on the loose.
His grade school friend, who
didn’t make it through that night.
Back when I was in high school
we didn’t know boys were supposed
to stop when we said stop.
If we’d banded together,
if we’d called out the bystanders,
if we’d agreed that we deserved better,
that what was happening
was really, really shitty, maybe
we could have shut it down.
Maybe we could have changed
everything.



Kelly Fordon’s latest short story collection, I Have the Answer (Wayne State University Press, 2020), was chosen as a Midwest Book Award Finalist and an Eric Hoffer Finalist. Her 2016 Michigan Notable Book, Garden for the Blind (WSUP), was an INDIEFAB Finalist, a Midwest Book Award Finalist, an Eric Hoffer Finalist, and an IPPY Awards Bronze Medalist. Her first full-length poetry collection, Goodbye Toothless House (Kattywompus Press, 2019), was an Eyelands International Prize Finalist and an Eric Hoffer Finalist. It was later adapted into a play by Robin Martin and published in The Kenyon Review Online. Her new poetry collection, What Trammels the Heart, will be published by SFASUPress in 2025. She is the author of three award-winning poetry chapbooks and has received a Best of the Net Award and Pushcart Prize nominations in three different genres. She teaches at Springfed Arts in Detroit and online, where she runs a fiction podcast called “Let’s Deconstruct a Story.”

Photo credit: Marc Nozell via a Creative Commons license.


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The Last Revolution

By Lorraine Schein

 

The Last Revolution was yesterday.
It was so successful, that all future revolutions were cancelled forever.

A lesbian and her lover were elected President and Vice-President.
Their lovemaking is televised nationally as part of the inaugural proceedings
and greeted with applause by an appreciative at-home audience.

Poets have been elected to Congress. It is now a requirement for election to any political office that the candidate be a poet.
Poems are published in every daily newspaper and online.
Headlines announce the dates of public readings and news about famous poets.

Crowds go to hear poets the way they used to go to see rock stars or football games.
They cheer loudly, in iambic pentameter, for their favorite poet.

“I can’t wait to go to tomorrow’s poetry reading!” people say,
and tickets are sold out months in advance.

Work has been abolished by the smashing of clocks and digital time devices.
Now there can be no office work, or work at all, since there is no way
of measuring a workday.

The gods and goddesses return, and run rampant.

Children and animals are allowed to run for president also.
Next election day, a little girl and her teddy bear running-mate
look to be the winning ticket.

For toys have been given equal rights and a voice, too—
in what matters most.

 


Lorraine Schein is a New York writer and poet. Her work has appeared in VICE Terraform, Strange Horizons, NewMyths and Michigan Quarterly, and in the anthologies Wild Women and Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry collection, is available from Mayapple Press. Her book, The Lady Anarchist Cafe, is available from Autonomedia.

Image credit: Beatrice Murch via a Creative Commons license.


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Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist from our Give a Sawbuck page.