They scuttle, thin-boned sentinels of sameness, eyes like magnifying glasses, tongues tasting the air for errors, fingers bent to scold. “Not quite,” they mutter, scratching notes in the margins of my magic. “Untrue,” they insist, as if stars must justify their arrangement. Who are they, these custodians of order, to call my phoenix a disguised … Continue reading Political Poem: The Weave, by Grady VanWright