In Time of Low Polls, A Poem by John Sedgwick

In a Time of Low Polls

It will be the end of the world

And of all life.

Or so we think.

From the great blue whales to the little fishes,

From the clouds to the hay

Still amber in the field.

From mighty elephants to the microbes busy with their tiny tasks.

And all of us, of course.

We all will go.

People do not know how sick they are.

Everyone screaming, at each other's throats,

Twitchy for the guns they keep

For just such an eventuality.

Red states all anger,

Blue states just blue.

The crowds will riot, then slaughter.

We're sure of it.

There will be screaming before the silence.

Only one man will remain, a giant, the biggest ever.

A Satan Jehovah, who had once spoken only to himself, and then to his fans.

Now rails at everyone the world over, every second.

Over speakers implanted deep inside our brains, all cranked to top volume.

He's in us, disrupting sleep,

Stealing all thought.

Dogs can't be petted, or children soothed.

The dread is everywhere.

Our sole relief is to know our fate.

Or think we do.


September 19, 2016

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