a vine
grows around
the dictator’s ankles.
the dictator falls to
kudzu, or ivy, or
wild grape.
a bicameral congress
is eaten
by ferrets.
both houses
fall.
do you see the president
behind the bees?
all the businesses are closed
for dolphin mating,
their slick sex
destroying the fixtures
and merchandise.
and over there’s a church
which has no walls
so how is a wildfire
trapping people inside?
every artist is struck dumb,
throats replaced with redwoods;
sculptors and painters and dancers fall
in agony, their hands and feet torn from
the bark sprouting and scaling.
I am coming home
naked, hooting, calling
non-verbally, hoping you
have survived the same way.
it seems
the only strategy
guaranteed to work.
