An ad for a Holiday Inn popped up
when I googled the Charleston slave market—

Beautiful rooms and a cool pool
where you can rest and reset after slavery

On a business trip to Maryland
visited a plantation. A Southern belle

past her prime in pearls and a sweater set
took my money, soft hands slipped me

brochure about weddings and special
events on the property—as if I were a member of her sorority

Afterwards, I went to a Jimmy Buffet restaurant, blinded
by silver bullets, a server walked me across the street to my Sleep Inn

A work colleague with a German last name
couldn’t stress enough that she was German

not Jewish and as an afterthought like a perfume’s base note
she added, bored, she fell asleep at Auschwitz

Paired, we worked on military systems
to keep the world safe

There are not enough silver bullets

VICKI IORIO is the author of the poetry collections Poems from the Dirty Couch, Local Gems Press (2013), Not Sorry, Alien Buddha Press (2020) and the chapbooks Send Me a Letter, dancinggirlpress (2015) Something Fishy, Finishing Line Press (2018), and Blabbermouth, Alien Buddha Press (2023). Her poetry has appeared in numerous print and on-line journals. When Vicki is not writing poetry she is sweating on her Peloton and when she is not on her Peloton, she is drinking a crisp white wine.