poem

Underdogs

Let’s say X holds all the real power and works to keep Y

from getting any while ABC, belonging altogether to more

distant categories of shit and envy, piously bitch and moan

as Y slowly squeezes through the self-sealing fissure, and EFG

and all the other sad alphabeticals dangle in desperation
on hillsides of hopelessness, doped or au naturale, hankering

to last-shot the big-league bliss after all the fruitless generations

badmouthing X, and now Y—You rotten rainbow hoarders! 

You diabolical double-crossers! I throw my weight and effort
to kept-out others, with as good as backwash to breathe.