Pick the prick with the tiny, polished hands
clasped firmly around the swindled swindling whip
Let it snap across the collective, national back:
Breaking, Breaking, Broken
Let the great pumpkin headed siren sing
“we’re gonna make America great again”
A privileged lullaby for the daytime soaps
A voice as rooted in rot as the systemic shroud
of hate and shade he uses for an overcoat
Let ‘em eat shit cakes. The bakery is open.
but know, when the sun slinks off
& the night creeps in
your awakening will not be pleasant, America
Let those flickering flames
serve as your nightlight
You’ve earned it.
A.S. Coomer is a native Kentuckian serving out a purgatorial existence somewhere in the Midwest. His work has appeared in over thirty publications. He’s been nominated for the Pushcart Prize twice. He’s got a handful of novels that need good homes. You can find him at www.ascoomer.wordpress.com. He also runs a “record label” for poetry: www.lostlonggoneforgottenrecords.wordpress.com.