TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #440
I have been carving his face in butter. I make cakes when the sugar-ration allows me to. I dream of pies, but the act of holding can get you marked by his dark followers as a chaser of the light. I worship the crust of my family. We stay inside whenever we aren’t marching against the taste of his terrible tide.
By Darren C. Demaree
I am the author of six poetry collections, most recently “Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly” (2016, 8th House Publishing). I am the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry.