Trumpet
The savages follow the directions
on the glowing boxes
sitting on altars
throughout the house. Their angry
orange faced deity has broadcast
his ego in front of them
for over a decade
when they watched him
search for apprentices. Now
he's hungry for herds
of scapegoats to slaughter
for his followers. They consume
whatever feeds film him, whatever
he feeds them, like blood
in the mouth of pagan vampires. They grow
violent against almost anyone
at the drop of a hat. They try to focus
on how they can trump
any person they can consider other
like me. I don't care
much about the hate or his claims
about making the country great
again. All I want is for my actions
to become brass instruments
declaring my affection
for the loved ones I would have to protect
from him and his followers.