NOAH’S CHILDREN PRAY FOR RAIN

                        Look around—the world is on fire!

                        We could really use a biblical flood.

                        But who will claim all available arks?

                        One large ark is seized by Supreme Court justices–

                        judges who seek to make presidents into kings,

                        turn women into passive breeding stock,

                        and reward rich pals with rulings that make them richer.

                        When the big rains come,

                        they will gather in the galley, break out the beer.

                        The outboard motor doesn’t want to pull-start.

                        A pair of penguins watch, shaking their heads.

                        One ark’s impounded by Congressional showboats—

                        pro-Putin, anti-vax, stolen-election right-wingers.  

                        Each stateroom features a wide-screen TV

                        so media mouths can monitor their sound bites.

                        “Bleached-blonde bad-built butch-body” rants

                        keep campaign contributions pouring in.

                        When the big rains come,

                        limelight-loving lawmakers will stand on deck

                        shouting into the wind at well-placed cameras,

                        blaming the cloudburst on liberals and drag queens.

                        A pair of chimps make faces behind their backs.

                        One gold-plated ark will house a convicted felon.

                        This puppet of greedy billionaires

                        will lounge on the top deck– combing his halo

                        and posting ALL-CAP diatribes on Truth Social.

                        He’ll rail against rivals, against RINOs, against rainclouds.

                        (File his complaints about Killer Clouds

                        with gripes about shower heads and flushing toilets.)

                        When the big rains come,

                        Nazis and Christian Nationalists alike

                        will tread water alongside his ark, seeking shelter. 

                        But he shows as little mercy to his followers

                        as to his enemies.  No one crosses his borders.

                        A pair of wolverines patrols his deck.

                        Those who did not reclaim his kingdom for him

                        deserve to drown, he says, along with immigrants,

                        disloyal politicians, DAs, fake news,

                        and disrespectful late-night TV comics.

                        No one’s at the helm to chart a course.

                        His ark runs on pure entitlement.

                        When the big rains come,

                        vested interests will launch corporate ferries;

                        lawyers will man fishing boats;

                        the NRA will commandeer a cruise ship at gunpoint;

                        MAGA die-hards will paddle kayaks;

                        QAnon will grab inflatable rowboats;

                        and cult sheep will gather on a flimsy raft,

                        which they firmly believe is a lifeboat.

                        Steady rain for 40 days and 40 nights.

                        With luck, the deluge will wash away pollution,

                        conspiracy theories, and self-serving lies.

                        With luck, masses of wavering voters

                        will think before casting one last ballot.

                        With luck, those enjoying deluxe arks

                        won’t notice bunches of barnacles

                        munching on their hulls; sharp-toothed, hungry mouths

                        chewing through their immunity—

                        and letting in fingers of angry sea.

                        Salt water will inundate the bilges,

                        slowly turning each ark full of smug VIPs

                        into the Titanic.

                        Crazed leaders torch our world, and fan the flames.

                        We need a flood to cleanse our hurting world.

                        Copyright July 2024                 Patricia Doyne