Fuck you, Grants Pass.
When I was ten,
my family lived
in a school bus
with no heat—
converted into a motorhome,
parked on the side of the road.
Fuck you, Roberts.
We were houseless.
Dad worked.
We were houseless.
I went to school.
We were houseless.
Fuck you, Alito.
We spent Christmas.
My brother turned one
In the bus—that March.
Fuck you, Thomas.
Then the sheriff said
we had to leave.
Dad drove us back
to North Idaho—
Fuck you, Kavanaugh.
My mom and I
beneath the blankets—
my brother between us
as the bus struggled
through winter passes.
Fuck you, Barett.
This ruling would have
confined my parents in a jail cell—
my brother and I stolen
by the state—
for the crime
of homelessness.
Fuck you, Gorsuch
Middle fingers
point at you,
with a chanted chorus
of “Shame”.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
—
Nathan Tompkins is a hard of hearing writer living just northwest of Portland, Oregon. His work has found home in lots of places included Collapse Press, Alice Says Go Fuck Yourself, and Into the Void.
