A Little Ditty About Him

what does our president want
except his bedpan

and his crutches and his hair —
nothing much.

nothing beyond what he needs
to keep the flame at a flicker.

he does need his aides to show him
how to get up, of course.

needs his wife for her frozen arms
and body trimmed for no more breeding.

needs his dignity to be assumed
by masses he’s assembled.

needs his poop wiped and turned
to gold waste to be auctioned off.

needs his food pre-chewed
and his drinks to be two-fisted.

needs heaven to exist if just
for a minute, a flashbulb, a glimmer.

after that, he won’t care a whim
for any of it.

after he’s gone he will breathe
a sigh of crows and vultures stalking.

after he’s gone everything
will stink of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T