Dear Anonymous American

 

I know it’s not your fault.

You caught it by default.

 

He wants us to exalt

all his double talk.

 

From the top we get assault.

Our wounds are rubbed with salt.

 

You’re in a burial vault

of his askew surreal pole vault.

 

His mind flexible as cobalt

while your life was lost.

 

I’m sorry this thunderbolt

somersaulted your life to halt.

 

And if I say I’m sorry

it’s from one deep in worry

 

that you’re one of the many

his lack of caring had to bury.