Saturday Night at the End of Civilization
by R.S. Mengert
An AR-15 buggers the Massachusetts Bay,
wearing a three-cornered hat
made from last week’s New York Post,
gleeking at the sun
to put it out.
Electric blue Kool Aid
masquerades as a glass of pinot noir
at sunrise in Manhattan.
Meanwhile, Moloch in lipstick
to be all nine muses.
It’s because those fucking chemtrails
he tells us.
Yeah, we say,
that must be it.
R.S. Mengert completed an MFA in poetry at Syracuse University. His work has appeared in Pensive, SurVision, Zymbol, Poor Yorick, Maintenant, Poetry is Dead, ABZ, Four Chambers, The Café Review, Fjords, San Pedro River Review, and Enizagam. He lives in Tempe, AZ with his wife and an unusually loud cat.