Foul Politics and Fowl Gambling Habits

Let’s cook up something to be Thankful for in November

My mutant hen, Bender, photo by Christyl Rivers

Months ago, I started a betting pool.
How bad would he lose, the preening fool?
I chicken-shat my bet at 42 points
A number I now feel disappoints

Because won’t his loss be even worse?
With Tulsa, Putin’s bounties, & COVID’s curse?
We are up to exactly $100 dollars
A kitty that stomps and screams and hollers
Shouts maybe my bet should be a bit higher
When a chick leaves the nest, she best be a flyer

And what if history cheats us again?
Let’s not get cock-sure about this win
When we count our chickens before he lays eggs
Liberty limps on scrawny chicken legs
We still have to attend racism and hate
And sexism, and all of it, before it’s too late

So bet with me, maybe you’ll guess spot on
Let’s lose this turkey before he turns Black Swan