Poetry from Brian Fugett

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100 DEAD BABIES

the conductor’s wand rises
suspended in the air
for a speechless moment
one hundred dead babies wail away
a mute harmony on the floor 
of the orchestra pit
& the audience sways gently
to the thunderous roar 
of the  air conditioning unit
and a billion goosebumps 
tickle their arms
and nipples 
while the rest of the 
nation sways in unison
as they veg-out
on a lethal dose of CNN

4 thoughts on “Poetry from Brian Fugett”

    • Thank ya, Kevin! Glad ya dig my poesy-shit…that means a lot to me….

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