by Mickey J. Corrigan
People are saying it’s the biggest
the greatest, the best crowd
this shithole has ever seen
sleek limos slide through, his face
at the bulletproof window
mouth open, golf cap tight
on his oversize head
People are saying
the crowd's as big as Lincoln's
and everyone wept, even Jesus
the fans wild with joy
racecar thrilled to see him
to be seen by him
the man who would be king
People are not saying
he took an appalling strut
across the world stage
that ended in folly, farce
reflecting internal unrest
bubbling anger, belligerence
and distrust of everyone else
People aren't saying
he was a mad genius
skilled at detecting weakness
in a narrow human range
of emotions others feel
absent in his lurking bulk
under the ruby crown
the bloated expression
of abject fear
People aren't asking
why the devout followers
of this crazy cult
still willing to sicken
maskless in the face
of scientific evidence, millions
of facts like corpses piling up
vowing to win at all costs
or die trying
Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan writes Florida noir with a dark humor. Novels include Project XX about a school shooting (Salt Publishing, UK, 2017) and What I Did for Love a spoof of Lolita (Bloodhound Books, 2019). Kelsay Books recently published the poetry chapbook the disappearing self. Grandma Moses Press will publish the poetry chapbook Florida Man later this year.
