Rewriting Androcles, or The Conversion of Theodore Nugent

And today

an earthquake will level

the suburbs of greater

LA. No one will be slain

since thoughts & prayers

will work for the very first time.

And today

the bosom of ICE

will thaw in piercing sleet,

the needle in 99

trillion sheaves at last

pinpointed. Mexicans will be

assembled to share a cake,

provided reparations

for 1848.

And today

no soldiers will be needed.

Either in plastic or in flesh.

Hasbro will give its profit

to grieving widows.

In every single country

on the planet. Boys will

play with dolls and

keep a home. Effigies

will be watered

from our wells.

And today

I’ll write a poem

that thunders the world.

And today

reserves will be no more.

No one will be ghettoed.

Settlers & Shoshoni

will fish from frothing

streams. Wash it down with

milk from the buffalo—

offered, never purloined.

Nothing will be taken

from this day on.

And today?

A lion's sentry of the

rose will be uprooted from its paw—

not by a children’s

fable—but a trophy

hunter vowing he’ll

go vegan from here on in.

And tomorrow

America will finally choose

the woman of colour. Soaring,

magnificent colour.

It should have been

yesterday. It should have

always been yesterday.

Andreas Gripp

January 10, 2026

—for Kamala

painting by Briton Riviѐre