Great, Again

Gray regime breakfast
blunt and slow: rain pouring
intermittently, sideways.
As the television drones
of political sports,
the dry eggs assault me
with unknown ingredients.

Finally, the big game:
the crowd watches, aghast.
They huddle in blankets
while the action unfolds
on the fields below. How
can one man inspire
such fear? The monster terrifies,
but is visible. Much worse
are the ones I can't see.

I sleep fitfully
the night before, dream
of clever escape. Forced
into wooded exile,
my daughter and I
manage to stay miles
ahead of attackers, but she
forgets her sleeping bag.
“Take mine,” I tell her,
without hesitation.

I walk across the beach
as birds argue about
leftover garbage, and
waves continue their
indifferent pounding.
The manufactured greatness
of humans is so
much less than this,
but the carnage compels
and I can't stop looking.

-Leah Mueller

Leah Mueller is the author of one chapbook, Queen of Dorksville, and two books, Allergic to Everything and The Underside of the Snake. Her work has been published in Blunderbuss, Memoryhouse, Outlook Springs, Atticus Review, and many others. She was a featured poet at the 2015 New York Poetry Festival, and a winner in the 2012 Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest.