day TWELVE HUNDRED and THIRTY NINE

HIS FAMILY

They never look very happy in
any of the photographs. Seeming
distracted, constipated, they
frown, look away, or stare
blankly at the camera.
Especially the wife, who
appears to view everything
with distaste and disdain.
As though she’s just sniffed
a carton of sour milk or
walked past a homeless person
on her way into a gilded hotel.

The luxury, the privilege, even
the solid gold toilets don’t
seem to please them anymore.
Their power is simply to be
wielded tediously as a right
bestowed upon them by a
glitch in the democratic process
which allowed the candidate
with the fewest votes to win
a viciously waged election.

And still they look less than
pleased with all they’ve done.
Have they discovered the
bottom of the treasury at last?
The limits of unbridled looting?
Surely they have not run out
of environmental regulations
to overturn, negate, and reverse.
No, they simply appear to be
sour by nature, evil by inclination,
and unhappy by disposition.
May they remain so in perpetuity:
every meal causing indigestion,
every gesture resulting in pain.

--M.J. Arcangelini