The Wolf Born to Riches (part of this poem is based on speculation)

rich man’s christmastime    a life-long play
offering nubile or pubescent gifts to burnt-out messiahs
torn feet that leave bloody tracks as a spectacle of love
this was    was was    was we cherish the thought
an inability to understand its emotionally scrubbed gleam
the secrets she’s been keeping behind her ears
her existence    an apple    to be bobbed for
his collection of little girls in his coat’s right pocket

there is young    there is
a bony disease that supports rotting towers
a rumored love nest    its forced teenage grins
count the bubbles from a drowning telephone to be sure
he would be caught if there were an insect alarm
orange hair behind the bars of a penthouse window 

from Trump Tics (2020)