The Cruelest Month

by Travis Mateer

your politic and game-board mind
is not a thing I seek to play
no peek-a-boo you motherfuckers 
will soften up your death-door days

let's take Francis in his jeep
Cherokees, they are not cheap
neither is cop 1,2,3 and
4,5,6 for disorderly!

Francis Fidler, what's that sound?
it's what happens when you fuck around
your eyes all crazed with booze and meth
smile, Francis, your mugshot best

finding out is so much fun!
like the badges who play with guns
politics, it ain't the same
with Sheriffs playing voter games 

sit back, kids, let's watch a show
Ozarks if you're in the know
redneck shorelines a risky sell
when you're pitching to cartels 

Christian warriors on your rump
fitting white hats onto Trump 
stop proselytizing Q, the kids
are hiding under pews, or

running to the peacock flair
of pecking birds with feather hair
story time is now a war
with Saturn closely keeping score

electric ether, Tesla knew
no more time break--rabbits chew
through each other when skies collapse
fuck this program, our power naps

will charge intention to respond 
Diana laughs then kills the swans 
carefully placed and colored black
to keep her breath from coming back 

sorry, necromancing rats
love is soul and heart has won
we are simply down here waiting
for you to realize

you're done

About Travis Mateer

I'm an artist and citizen journalist living and writing in Montana. You can contact me here: willskink at yahoo dot com
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