On the news tonight, a presidential
colonoscopy — a tale of how
for three whole hours the chief exec of trouble
handed trouble to his vice (although
no double trouble came), but then no more
details revealed: no bacterial armies
multiplying in a flare of war
among kingly polyps & no kinky creases.
Welcome to the presidential gut,
bubble gum pink, not a spot of shit
(after a quick administrative cleanout)
where global decisions stir & sit in state,
and the first physician’s mighty pointer traces
only microdrops of blood in secret places.
Source: Poetry (May 2008).