Within the confines of the bright blue sky
Everywhere the trees of death follow the road
Leaves going to dead brown and Holocaust orange:
So tight you cannot escape it.
The day after the election
Morning came in with a silence thick as fog,
A cabinet of self, wood of denial,
litter of dysfunctionality.
And then the storm came–
A cloudburst blistering across its spleen.
Gathering shadows into fault lines,
herniated disks swelling into masses.
Then, a thick mucus of disgust and happiness,
a congress of iron skillets against ground
& I wait patiently in the morning rust,
subdued lines and other measures.