Wiseacre For Justice

Privy to the plight

Of photosynthesis—

Putting perspective below

Dispassionate statistics—

The pejorative disorder remains

And I’m rounded up by the

Split ends of the majority

Hexing heirs’ hairs—so

I proceed to prepare for

The flood in which I’ve lost

Humble political plans.

Decision:

I must take advantage

Of the sun—

These nitrogen-fixing

Nodules and the

Rain to fix lungs,

I must take my privilege

And squeeze it so hard,

It pulverizes and sprinkles

Its pompous phosphorous

Over the heads that I have been,

Hung—

This being my chance to give

You the power

To take my rescinded

Hands back to their supernumerary home.