Trump Baby, by Antony Owen

For Debasis Mukhopadhyay

Baby,
to scale sky, I will happily give you my breaths
take them baby and rise over English hedgerows where migrants nest safely
think of them as walls separating the otherworld to false heavens, cast the angels out.

Baby,
to scale palace, church, mosque, synagogue and the black honeycomb of Grenfell
think of these things as valuable as Lord Sugar tweets a joke you would love about Senegal.
Take all of these riches. our stars, the stripes of an airliner heading to Mexico, dusks blood anthem.

Baby,
There is a Nicaraguan man invading someone’s space in Camden Fried Chicken but its all good,
He was offered a seat by a Canadian woman and they really hit it off I think they’ll make love,
She will grab the back of his head and they will kiss like interracial humans and she will be with child.

Baby,
Let the wind be your weaning, the Palestinian boy yelling for peace your meaning
Let the senate of my lips on my lovers be a parliament of lovemaking like lennon and yoko
Fly Trump baby, fly into a pylon ring and let the iron man explode with your empty insides of boom.

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