76 words
Gay Pride is raised, and Dixie’s down.
The Kenyan king inside his House
has it lit to reflect his crown.
Ms. Jenner’s teats swell in her blouse.
Burrs prick the sky in Baltimore,
more melons ripen in the South.
The US of old is no more.
The racist straight must shut his mouth.
We are all now confederate,
with midnight spangled overhead,
although beyond, cold, temperate,
the stars say the dawn will be red.
27 June 2015
1 comment
I don’t normally read these, but I like this poem. I didn’t realize they illuminated the White House with the colors of the gay flag. I’m not surprised though. This whole country is fucked up.
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