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To Donald Trump and all the other letches throughout my long life, starting at age 11 and continuing far longer than anyone would expect
It is not for nothing that I seek payment
for you to come near my soft body.
It is a design to hold you off, just so,
make you think twice, reflect on
whether this is truly necessary.
In the end, you may offer payment,
but I shall refuse it. There —
that is my gate. The concession is closed.
Yet, today, you reverse this.
You ask me for payment,
not for you to approach me,
but for me to approach you,
as if your hands are not the menace
they would be the other way.
All narrative on top of action, you say,
as if it is your meaning and not the fact.
But hold,
I choose neither to pay nor be paid.
I save nature to take its course,
for the meadow to lie fallow,
for tired hemlock
to die and resprout after long winter,
for lazy oak to crowd out blackberries,
for cicadas to wake the moon, for wild fire,
for rain storm, for endless sun,
for all these and for all else
without your interferences,
without your gaping desires.
From Hafiz, A Pie Where You Live.
Poems from in between 
“But hold”–and the whole stanza, I just love that turn. And the cicadas waking the moon…
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Thank you. A little overwrought with the crazy land we live in. Glad you found something good in there!
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Maybe that’s why I latched on to the nature parts–people are so hard and frequently horrible.
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this poem is so true, as evidenced by that “sham of a man,” our republican nominee for president. i really like the title of the poem, and i also find the motif of “payment” particularly apt. the last stanza with its beautiful images of nature is a powerful statement.
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Thank you. You always see the best in my poems. I thought of adding one more subtitle, something like, ‘The wisdom of prostitutes,’ but the reference to letches was perhaps enough. ? I struggle with how to write anger. One of the toughest things, no? Thanks again! So appreciate it.
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