Cigar

by Allen Taylor

While in Iraq in 2005 I wrote enough poems to fill a book. "Cigar" was originally published in The New Verse News on January 20, 2008.

Drawn out deep,
like the upward concerns
of an intern. Captains delight
in late night fatties, blue skies
dressed in vanilla, and star-
crossed lips ladled with love stains.
Free soil built this land. Death

may dance in the sun
but I'm taxed. Hand me a bill
of sale, this whore has the whole
damned country by the balls.
The king may know his legacy,
but where are his clothes, mind you?

The Right Wing spins
a new face while the Party
reminisces and the world
is made safe. For

democracy
is a costly business,
liberty a puff of smoke
in a courtroom.

Battlefield worms like us
seek security in slow-poppin' cherries
and close calls,

rockets red glaring past our bedtimes.
I'm fed the hell up with Hillians casting lots,
forgetting to shed light
on this year's stale,
burned-out
two-party topic.

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