Post-Truth by Megan Baldrige

Post-Truth by Megan Baldrige
 
 
The Truth went out for a long walk,
after the humidity
of two presidential conventions
exhausted her.
She got lost in a Florida suburb,
evaded alligators,
almost didn’t make it home ,
safely.
 
But return she did,
unrecognizable.
Was it the slight Russian accent?
The shades that shielded
her bruises from our inquiring eyes?                                                                                                 Was she the victim of the brawl
or was she the vanquisher, the bully?
No one knows.
 
We could see her beauty had faded:
graying skin,
hair tinted orange,
peeling nose–from new sunburns,
new earphones pulled tightly over her ears,
so she couldn’t hear
the swirling cacophony
surrounding her.
 
 
No one wants to take selfies
with the Truth,
anymore.
She so lifeless–
even her former friends
refuse to recognize
the Truth.
They’ve renamed her: Post-Truth.