by Chris Freifeld
Idaho, the joke's on you
you hunk of heartland,
home of hunters and rifles
and men.
"I am not nor have I ever been," he
said, "I am a tall senator, here is my wife.
We sing in the wheat colored choir on Sunday."
But turn away now,
turn away from the broken man.
The flag is in flames,
there's no time for the fallen.
Chris Freifeld is recovering from a 30 year career in psychiatric nursing somewhere in Southern California. Her poetry was, until today, universally unpublished. e-mail address: fern-hill(at)hotmail.com.