Diplomatic Corps
Diplomats are agreed: Trump must go!
Because they are the ones in the know,
They must make policy.
President? Hey, who’s he?
He is groupthink’s unspeakable foe.
–Tom Riley
Arctic Rivalries
Reindeer team is encountering woes—
For they face unforeseen blinding snows.
No, the challenge ain’t new,
But their options are few:
The damn Russians have hacked Rudolph’s nose!
–Tom Riley
Sniper Rifle
Santa’s reindeer look
so different in the sites
of my .303.
–Tom Riley
Blue Christmas
(for Bailey Sciambra)
This Christmas, Bailey isn’t coming home.
It’s from her uncle that I heard the news.
It’s news that rings like leather, wears like chrome.
It’s news that leaves a lake-sized psychic bruise.
When Christmas spirits visit, I accuse.
When Christmas carols echo, I just curse.
Time is the chessboard, people, where I lose.
My Christmas season couldn’t get much worse.
Yes, Mary’s baby rules the universe.
Yes, in that fact I find great consolation.
My catechism I can still rehearse.
“Christmas” alliterates still with “Creation.”
But I’ve just lost a million inner bucks.
I think I’ll shoot some reindeer. Santa sucks.
–Tom Riley
What Wine Goes with Rudolph?
(for Jerry Cooper)
When Santa Claus and Jerry Cooper meet,
that jolly little elf is going to scream,
not laugh. He likes to stomp his booted feet.
He likes to make extensive lists — to deem
some “naughty” and some “nice.” And his whole team
backs up this sick, judgmental power trip.
But soon he’ll face a conflict too extreme
even for him. Come on, fate: let ‘er rip!
Jerry won’t have to break his back or hip.
Jerry won’t have to sock him in the spleen.
Slap on a hold and then there’s no more lip
from Santa. Let the looters all convene!
Chloe can have her pick of toys. What fun!
I hope I rate some reindeer venison.
–Tom Riley
Flammeus Gladius 