Our russet-tinged Boneman extols
“If we have between 100,000
and 200,000
we’ve all together
done a very good job”
Praise the tiny tawny tutelar*
Because it wasn’t 2 million

Daffodils raise their faces
Sunward seeking Spring
Grassy green dreams
From behind soiled windowpanes
Lockdown clears the air
Over the sallow Boneman’s Apocalypse

As the morgue trucks roll out

That Boneman, Pestilence, rides
Humanity lulled to complacency
Debating now the virtue of dying
To serve their cold god, Mammon
While the titian-skinned messiah
Feeds lies to the deluded
To let this plague bury grandma

© 01 April 2020, by D. Denise Dianaty

Trump Plague Doctor Unmasked
The Plague Doctor Unmasked: The Boneman, Pestilence — Digitally created drawing created by the poet, done using Adobe Illustrator and the Affinity Photo app

*Tutelar: Definition from the Oxford Dictionary of Difficult Words – “Serving as a protector, guardian, or patron; of or relating to protection or guardian”

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