Poem: coda Coda CODA

I thought I was done writing “Richard” poems. I was wrong. Here’s ‘one’ more?

I thought when it came to writing
“Richard Poems” I was done —
but there’s been an extension
on the free rent in my head, so
here’s another one:

He once said he’d kill anyone that
ever got in his way — I trust it’s not
gonna get me killed to say, I hope
my poems shed some light on the
ugliness that taints our national psyche.

They’re out there, the fucking
cowards / may they choke on their
own bile and rot in their socks. They’re
a species dying out, if we keep
our fingers crossed.