L'Etat C'Est Moi

[I wrote this poem before we heard that Donald will deface a $100 bill with his image.]

L’Etat C’Est Moi

That’s my garden of greens

on the redesigned dollar bill.

Everyone is as unique

as my habitual sunflower,

everyone seeks an edge,

that’s how we know we’re equal.

So don’t expect me to meet

your every need and abolish the storm

swamping your cellar and all

your uninsured Frederick Douglass memorabilia.

The sunflower’s privilege is what makes it

the herald of solar flares, regulator of monarchs

and bees. Just like moi. The gnome in my garden

recites my U.N. speech on global preening.

A data-orb hovers over my perimeter

downloading instructions to the strawberries.

Grown green, my sunflower denounced yellow

when I redefined the true nature of green.

Your slogans cast themselves into my compost.

Your caucus is out of coffee, disperse!

You touch the fence, you feel the juice.

A survivable jolt, brush yourself off and turn back.

Must you forever be reminded of what happens

when an infestation goes unchecked?

My mother hunted slugs with a flashlight, tweezers

and a jar. Think like a slug then pinch its pith.

Go ahead and call my fingers fat grubs --

at harvest we’ll see who reaps, who weeps.

Every sprout in my garden will attest –

what rains down now is better than rain.