Distress (Day 365)

I did not think 

we’d come

to this

I did not think 

we’d last 

so long

as a first kiss or 

a sparrow’s song

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image via Pexels

Deplorable Old Men* (Day 250)

And now they’re saying             He is a racist.

Those guys, you know               How much money they make?

If I made that much money        I’d be thanking god every day. 

But these guys just want            To protest this and that.

Right, and he is the only            One who isn’t scared to say it.

Those guys make so much         Money.

You know what I say                  I say: You don't like America? 

You should get the hell out         Go to another country.                 

But what country                        Would want them?

(What country, indeed?) 

*A minimally edited/annotated conversation from rural America.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo of Kremlin: Francisco 

Poison Slurry (Day 240)

your words  they lie 

as well as 

sit  a pale egg 

unhatched 

the poison slurry 

fills the cracks

appalling  we are 

spit-and-polish 

egos  where a small 

few head 

he goes all in  

they follow even unto

silver-plated truth he 

traded in 

exchange for 

long-since missing wits

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: StockSnap