September Poem 45: Loosen Your Tie, Mr. President

3 a.m. Twitter rantings. The frequent

Bouts of spirit writing. Fingers pecking

Like a field full of hens rushing in on

A computer keyboard in the midst of

A falling handful of feed. The morning

Covfefe and the nicknames like red neck-

Ties pulled so tight. Raining down fire and

Fury like rocket man. Like you’ve never

Seen. Like the storm’s urge of goiter flowing

Over his weak chin. And the circular

Purse of lips like a hanged man grasping for

One last breath of air. Fighting to hold on

To purpled tongue thrusting from rush of blood.

A half waking dream holding to something.

 

 

Mighty

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3 thoughts on “September Poem 45: Loosen Your Tie, Mr. President

    1. Thank you. It took me about five different incarnations of that line before I decided on that one. But there is a Trump poetry contest being held by the New York Times. The deadline is in early October, so if you have a Trump poem lurking in the back of your mind, now would be a good time to write it. Here is the link: Leaf

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