Cult Status


It’s as though we’re filling a leaden cup
with duck blood to be consumed
by the pharaoh of string cheese.

Well, I won’t tolerate such behavior
for the rest of this semester.
It constitutes cult status, you understand.

I have no desire to mix myself
in your intransigence. Damn you and your
thinking ahead for the sake of humanity

and the powerful leader we will all come to know
as Trumpola. Trumpola— the fine carnival barker,
the one they sneer at and jeer at

until the cows come home and make us all knife
into the water from at least 10 meters in height.
A few of us will bellyflop and really leave
a nice red mark. One of those red marks will resemble Oklahoma.

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