Robert Cooperman

TRUMP AND COVID-19

It’s going according to my fabulous plan
for re-election: New York collapsing,
all the libbos and minorities who hate my guts
for being richer than them, dying like litter runts,
so scratch their votes in November unless the cheating
Dems get their mail-in wish, which they won’t.

And all those Hispanics and blacks are dropping
in Miami and Tampa: two more Dem strongholds
that never gave me a fair break. And the lying
reporters dying off! I laugh whenever I hear
they’re gasping their last, their laptops silent forever.

And when I give my briefings, better than sinking
a sixty foot putt, to see those lying reporters’ numbers
thinned out to sitting at least six feet apart, though
it won’t do them any good; I’ve ordered my security
guys to smear their chairs with droplets: justice
for when they used to shout unfair questions,
and I shouted back they were hideous, to question Me!

If I can only get Fauci to drop dead! One less idiot
scientist to contradict me, when I say the economy
will be humming in a month, a miracle saving us!
You gotta believe, just like all the Evangelicals,
who love me for wanting to lock up abortionists.

Who knows better than me, skating every time
my enemies try to take me down with bogus claims
my true followers see right through. If my guys
are the only ones left alive to vote, a landslide
like no other, proof I’m the greatest president ever.


Gerald So reads "Trump and COVID-19":



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Bob confesses: "This poem was inspired by my rage against the lying rat bastard who has usurped the White House. Rather than write a rant, I thought it preferable to put words into his vile mouth that it wouldn't be a stretch for him to have actually said."


ROBERT COOPERMAN's two latest collections are riffs on The Odyssey: Lost on the Blood-Dark Sea (FutureCycle Press) and The Ghosts and Bones of Troy (Kelsay Books). Forthcoming from Finishing Line Press is All Our Fare-Thee-Wells, a love letter to the Grateful Dead.