Winter In Her Blood
Poison blackened veins like the roads through the grasses of NorthAmerica.
It's an old hand that carries the candle through the dark.
Shaking and praying. Winter in her blood.
Desperation in the flicker of light on the whites of her eyes.
Moaning, gasping, clutching a screwdriver franticly stabbing.
It looks like Ms. America got into the pills again.
She tripped on some errant talking points and broke her hip on Afghanistan.
Heavy lies the crown. We're not the first and we won't be the last.