Monday, November 6, 2017

I Mourn All The Shotgun-Dead Ducks

I mourn all the shotgun-dead ducks
Pond-gone, now less shade than sorrow,
The spotlit movement on the bad-luck
Border: brown-skinned swarms on-the-go

Scaring the demo out of democrats
Gringoed from gradeschool to trim the fat,
Dress the meat, and never take any shit—
It’s victory to the vipers in this snake-pit!

Only kissable necks and a sandy beach will do
For my grieving—O sensible superglue
Joining the world to my oyster
Of touch and taste I’d never cloister
For a pearl. I have a few good seasons yet
To reverse what made my feathers wet.

No comments:

Post a Comment