Washington still smells like a swamp.
We send living representatives
to dredge out the grime
but they die from the stench
and we keep re-electing their corpses.
If you want change— change your vote.
Even if he’s from your tribe,
if he’s been there long enough,
he’s lost whole fingers to the rot,
hands corrupt and greasy
from the money like methane
bubbling up from the boardrooms.
Vote out the zombie incumbents!
Be the term limits you seek.
For the Living Poetry Prompt: Outrage.
Just one week until the election is done and the shenanigans begin. If enough of us vote, they might not be able to steal it this time. I’ve done my duty. Have you?