all the mad high-hatter candidates
in quicksilver inaugurations
out to the races in fields of spuds
in their winter of homeland security
we, the people, picked them all!
from McCain to McDonald's
tiny ones coated and roasted
couch potatoes diced and grated
Mister Potatoes dressed and played
boiled in Russian borscht
or tossed into an immigrant salad
stewed with Saint Pat corned beef
and when the chips are down
dusted with artificial favors
salted and fattening
after to market they go for profit
the people descend to the overrun fields
vetted and left for dead
get their fill of rejection
small and scarred
too many crying eyes
green-skinned refugees
collateral damage in the wasteland
under a chilly gray American sky
growth stunted and ravaged
never to bloom or flower
only rot
and yet
from the underground
seeds that were supplanted
will rise again
in scavenged victory gardens
February 1, 2017
No comments:
Post a Comment