Though rare, it always makes for a great story
to be on the verge of tears
while cutting to a commercial break.
She wanted the white noise wash of rain
to ruin her hair off camera.
Standing, soaked under orchards of
orange trees breathing into the lungs
tucked under the hearth of a blue blazer.
It is the advertisement for piece of mind
available from our phones for a small fee.
The newscaster has held our hands
through the mobs of inlaws as they left
shits on the marble floors of Capitol Hill.
But who will now comfort this teller of news
with the assurance of betterment, soon?
She holds her phone underneath her desk
and touches the application to open up–
digitally placing her amidst half dead trees
left with hole infested leaves and crying
in the rain.
It is a sound not dissimilar to the splash
of hot soapy water dripping from the sponge,
cleaning blood from the eyes of
presidential statues that can now truly
declare, they have seen it all.
. . .
