Beauty Sonnet Under DJT
The Donald’s prayer breakfast berating defiance—
rosaries before omelets, a lectern over which his mic and Macy’s dwell,
a carafe, a croissant, puissant ilk, their striplings pray tell.
I think of viral camaraderie, marches against giants,
speak to the relative cosmetics rep, inquire as to her Trump allegiance,
glamour sold out of her trunk, pedaled as a second job so she’ll live well,
mascara under the wiring, psalms thriving off silver spoon and bell.
What would it take to pry concealer from a jumper cable, shatter compliance
where eternity and lip gloss forgottenmanit out of the park?
Yesterday I saw a pedicure in an airport, learned the verb subtweet
as in banishment, blotting the opposition’s 140 back to Kellyanne.
I tried makeup in middle school, puberty grasping the stark
back when he was board games and Deal of the Art which I’ve transposed to unseat—
hoarding blush, second-course hash below a marquee, Mary Kay so ran.
[image | Donna Trumpette by Saint Hoax]