POEM FOR JOHN MCCAIN
the old man died how terrible to be alive
for so long & then dead suddenly forever
dragging a small plow across a hardening field
senator war-bringer at the comedy show
nobody mentioned you what a lovely day
drinking vodka & ginger beer buying chocolate
& comic books markets soaring bombs falling
elsewhere thankfully as they always have
bless you john for the lotteries i did not enter
& keep winning & to which i owe
my small imperfect kingdom my lilacs & blood
money so easy to forget whose backs
we broke for this doom approaching surely
you did years ago what a pity your own body
killed you i do not think i will be so lucky oh
john air thinning fires everywhere children
wailing in the streets what you wrought swiftly
we will suffer slowly what was taken must be
reclaimed it sucks honestly i love being alive
on planet earth all its dogs & rock formations
goldenrods lamplight swallows in the creekside
mist i mean fuck everything is so good
& you stole it that’s okay though i’m not mad
tonight we light one candle to your memory
vanishing like the mist we are presently
drifting into gravedigger deceiver angel
who fell unlike you we have time
—from Poets Respond
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Seth Simons: “This week we were subjected to the spectacle of our political class celebrating John McCain, a corrupt, war-mongering imperialist who made the world measurably worse for all but an elite few. This poem is about the world he left behind.” (web)
