An Ode to 2020
A poem
What an absolute shithole.
What a vomitous promenade,
a hangover headache made manifest
as calendar of paper cut days.
If ever a year was a suicide watch,
or a self-tying knot
of processional puppet string
strangling light from the eyes,
it was you, year of bad juju,
blood cells like black Cadillacs
colliding calm heartbeats
into car crash heart attacks.
The universe is exhausted,
never a December more exalted,
to see a revolution conclude
and come out clean
as a worker for the meat plant,
the one who holds the bolt gun,
refusing to ever eat
another hamburger or steak,
we are all vegan cannibals now.
The sunrises keep screaming
like the cattle in our dreams,
and I’m finding more and more
blood in my teeth,
just chewing the foamy air
of my survival instincts,
every breath a new vaccine
against tomorrow’s news
and whatever fear the daylight brings.
