Ruler of Everything
The Ruler of Everything proclaims blood-colored
the new royal hue. The Ruler of Everything
urinates boldly, annointing the world
of visible things. The Ruler of Everything’s
searing gaze is a white hot ray of prey-fascination,
yet he’s prone to explosions of spontaneous
playfulness. When he relaxes, you see
in his eyes his life as a child, starved
on the thug-governed streets of Juarez.
Each day of his reign the Ruler of Everything
sings songs of action. He drenches his weapons
in the blood of the dead beast. He sighs and groans
and whines melodiously, to oohs and aahs and
mass applause, one of the truly musical among us.
Still just a pup, he weeps in his sleep,
dreams he is late for howling practice,
but can’t find the field where the lesson is held.
Oh, Great Defender, Fate of the Nation,
Perfect Incarnation of What a Leader
Should Be: the world’s tumult has pummeled
and roughened you, pitilessly.
And yet you’ve been crowned
The Ruler of Everything. You’re on everyone’s god-list.
You treat the dead beast with considerable deference.
And this is exactly as it should be,
just as the gods would have decreed,
were there gods we believed in, other than Thee.