Three Trump poems // Darren C. Demaree

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #127

The jelly blood is art. The real blood is art. It’s how he’s eating all of it that sickens me. I have lowered my spoons to watch. I’ve bought knives. I’m no longer hungry, but I’m grinding my teeth enough to fool my stomach. The air works though both of us, but it always makes him look like a dragon.

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #128

I know the worth of a cello. I wanted to say that out loud. It feels good to remind the world of the cello. There are so many dark pearls of the art world. Let us not forget the cello! The cello is certainly an ally in this fight.

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #129

The torture will be the torture. There will be torture. Close, soul-touching torture. The removal of layers of self kind of torture. Hiding. Lost coast torture. Public molestings of our humanity torture. Do not forget one incident. We will place each moment on his chest. Some of us are going to have to rise above it, to ensure the cycle ends with him. Please don’t ask me to be one of those people.

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Darren C. Demaree's poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including the South Dakota Review, Meridian, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review. He is the author of six poetry collections, most recently "Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly" (2016, 8th House Publishing). He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.