Nope, this isn’t about the GOP leaders who are all still backing Trump despite ‘condemning’ his boasts of sexual assault. This is an older poem I wrote for my workshop application. It’s a bit more fun–I kind of want to write more rhyming/form poetry.
The Boneless Ones
We are the stuff of screams, unpleasant dreams,
But, despite shell and slime and spine, divine.
Artisanal arachnids weaving seams
Of perfect symmetry in their design.
Mother scorpion, mistress of the sting,
Parades little white ones on her jet-back;
Father mantis is praying and preying,
Playing the blushing blossom, then, attack!
Wee water-worms feed on great fallen whales
We land-larvae spit out the finest silk.
And airborne is the love of Cirque du Snails!
Great are we, invertebrates and our ilk.
Though your toxins, traps, Tribunes might abound,
You live in our world, not the wrong way round.