Angled, just so,
nose aquiline profiled
repeats itself, a score
of sights defiled
by smirk
and sidling squint
that lurk
’side lips, ’neath glint — 
masking lid
 — that wart
from lens hid
remains, uncaught
with head’s turn:
that scar,
cut, scrape, burn:
quality of star
projected for journalists’ 
camera clicks, feverish notes
 — tricks to top lists
among those who vote
 — preference given female fans, 
wizened women
 — blue hair and winter tans — 
yearning for their yen, 
bespeaking country-clubs
and time on hands:
to choose cherubs
from handsome bands
of candidates
and running-mates
nymphos would sate
as they final count await
 — lineup of hunks
more pectoral than pate
(so what if they’re punks?
 — cheese-cake lightweights)
 — good, well-groomed looks
go a long way
in voters’ books:
mayhap have final say
 — appeals
to prejudice
of heels
(albeit high) please
lowest stratum
 — pack
with those who back
the one with style,
not gray matter:
sharpest profile, 
photogenic looks better — 
The worthy
they shirk — 
democracy at work.

Like what you read? Give Tyrone Graham a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.