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Susan Sontag, the Belle of the Upper West Side

gunsandnobutter

 

She leaped into the room

With genius she’d presume

Her ego was her groom

A braggart in full bloom

 

Her hair was frosted, grave

Her voice was poised, thought brave

She’d lead us from the cave

On a road she’d deign to pave

 

In the sixties, she steered left

At fashion’s chic request

She’d drink Chablis with zest

Superlatives surpassed the rest

 

She claimed illness wasn’t metaphor

But called the white race, “cancer”

With a febrile verbal score

She was a lie’s enticer

 

And then in Nineteen Eighty-One

She made a sharp turn right

Mr. Reagan had just won

And revolution seemed trite

 

And so in New York’s Town Hall

She said causes were passé

A loud political brawl

One should never dare display

 

She said it’s time one did one’s work

The stuff that’s monied and mean

Idealism was beserk

It’s time…

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Acerca de MANON KUBLER BY MANON KUBLER

MANON KUBLER, ESCRITORA Y PERIODISTA EN RETIRADA. PREPARO MIS LLAGAS. EXPULSO MIS FUEGOS. TENGO HAMBRE Y VINE PARA QUEDARME. MANON KUBLER

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