for Maria Stadnicka




May fancies Corbyn:

Now there’s a man who can mount a real campaign !

His red lapel rose for this moment

glasses tilted on his nose

oblivious to the Tory moos, bringing the house to laughter

for a moment thinks, in spite of herself

If we could run this country together

(her husband’s face floating up into the stratosphere)

I wouldn’t have to be nasty to him—

I can’t explain…something has changed

I am not the woman I thought I was anymore,

the wolves are howling outside the door

they are the future we ignored

and I long to be one of them.


I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch,

there’s so much I want to tell you.

We are the same age, after all.


Your place or mine ?




Trump is shot by a madman

a one-shot to the head

from somewhere in Mexico

a drone bullet the size of a worn pencil.

There’s no saving him

inside he’s nothing, there’s no stuffing,

but old cupboards and shoeshine

the vanity of the self-made man

a torn rag of newspaper. Already

it seems years ago. America is


Humpty Dumpty caught in a net

by tribal women from Avatar.

The next President is painting the White House green,

while crowds pelt him with steaks.



Jay Ramsay

June 13th 2017


This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.