by Julia Griffin

“Merriam-Webster has weighed in on the debate over the word ‘irregardless,’
confirming that it is a proper, dictionary-verified word.”
—The Guardian

I will not irrenounce “irregardless”:
It’s an entry irrichly majestic;
We can hardly irrender discardless
Illocutions so pananapestic.

Though complaints may irrise (there’s a yardful),
And they seem to be unirremitting,
I must still irrefuse “irregardful,”
Irreluctancy notnotwithsitting.

by Phil Huffy

“Michael Cohen landed back behind bars Thursday
after… his evening out at a Manhattan restaurant
led federal officials to review his release from prison…”
—New York Post

Michael Cohen—
Where you goin’?

by J.P. Celia

“Let them eat cake.”
—Marie Antoinette

(For Bastille Day, July 14)

They say you rode the open cart
As fits a queen,
With grace, despite the crowd who roared,
“La guillotine!”

A priest had been assigned, they say,
To comfort you,
Whom you regarded like a cheese
More green than bleu.

You stepped, they say, by accident
Upon the toes
Of he whose job it was to kill
The people’s foes.

“Excuse me, sir,” they say you said,
And I know why:
You were a lady, even when
Condemned to die.

That crass remark about the cake
(Brioche? Souffle?)
Was slander, and a gross untruth.
Or so they say.

by Nora Jay

“The Fuji-Q Highland amusement park near Tokyo has an unorthodox request
for its roller coaster riders. ‘Please scream inside your heart,’ and not out loud,
the park is asking. The unusual ask is meant to reduce the risk of spreading
the coronavirus.”
—NPR

Fuji-Q, I’ll play my part
In your anti-COVID trick:
Though my roller coaster cart
Is unconscionably quick,
I am screaming in my heart.
I am also being sick.

by Katie Menzer

Love in COVID times
Means never having to say
Put on your damn mask

by Stephen Pisani

“South Dakota governor: Masks are optional at Mount Rushmore event Trump’s attending”
—The Hill

Abe Lincoln isn’t wearing one.
Thomas Jefferson ain’t neither.
George Washington’s exposed to sun.
Even Teddy gets a breather.
I’m greater than them all, bar none,
so I won’t wear one either.

by Julia Griffin

for Maria

“Barcelona Opera Reopens With An Audience Of Plants”
—NPR

And as the four musicians played,
The audience discreetly swayed,
While green ancestral traces stirred,
Deep in their sap, of something heard
Long since, by any count, in Thrace,
Where one of this same restless race
Had called upon their sympathies;
And so, although there was no breeze
In this strange greenhouse, they breathed in
The cello and the violin
Like watered air, and every stem
Sang with the sunlight played to them.

by Ruth S. Baker

“There’s a new perfume that smells like outer space…
This scent was initially made to help train astronauts
and eliminate any surprises they may experience while launching into orbit.
Several astronauts have described the smell as being similar to seared steak,
raspberries and metal.”
—ABC News

The aura of the firmament
No human nose could tell
Till NASA launched a bottled scent
Which recreates the smell.

Weigh, Astronaut, this attribute,
And pause before you choose
An atmosphere of charcoaled fruit
And rusty barbecues.

by Dan Campion

“Quantum fluctuations can jiggle objects on the human scale”
—Phys.org

Thanks, geniuses at MIT
And NSF: your science
Makes ponderers of girth agree
We’re happiest of clients;

Now when the bathroom scale goes tilt
And our midsection wriggles,
We needn’t suffer doughnut guilt!
It’s quantum flux that jiggles.

by Alex Steelsmith

Nobody runs from your
runny proboscis
and sneezing and coughing in meetings on Zoom.
In person, assume a more
fearsome prognosis;
just clearing your throat can mean clearing the room.

by Brian Allgar

Dominic Cummimgs, Boris Johnson’s chief advisor, made a return trip to Durham during the lockdown. Three members of the public are bringing private prosecutions against him. One of them said: “What Cummings did demonstrated that at the moment in the UK if you are rich and have powerful friends the law doesn’t apply to you.’”

Cummings is a-going out;
Confinement doesn’t suit him.
Disgruntled voters have no doubt
That Boris ought to boot him.

Cummings is a-going out;
“My son needs care,” he smiles.
“The trip to Durham,” people shout,
“Is several hundred miles!”

Cummings is a-going out;
“Of course I am!” he chortles.
“The rules that I’m allowed to flout
Were made for lesser mortals.”

Cummings is a-going out;
He snarls at his accusers.
“I’m privileged, I’ve got the clout,
So bugger off, you losers!”

by Nora Jay

“The French are the road-rage champions of Europe, according to a survey…
One out of 10 French drivers believes it is ‘every person for themselves’ on the roads…
which can emerge as bad behaviour towards other drivers who have upset them,
including insults and swearing. …
The Swedes were mostly likely to drive too fast and the Spanish the keenest to use their horns.
The Greeks topped the list for dangerous road behaviour and the British last.”
—The Guardian

Do you fancy a Frankish tantrum
On the perilous Périphérique?
Can you take the strain
Of the horns of Spain
Or the swerves of a texting Greek?

O it’s sauve qui peut for Parisians,
Face red, knuckles white, speech blue:
And the swinging Swede—
You should see him speed!
But Brits—what a dull, dull crew.

by Philip Kitcher

Temperatures in Northern Siberia, within the Arctic Circle, are steadily increasing.
Recently a new record of over 100°F was set.

Enjoy your dream vacation at the Gulag Inn and Spa,
a site where summer’s warmer every year.
Though if you plan to visit you will have to travel far,
you’ll find it more than worth it once you’re here.

The tundra stands wide open—you can strike out on your own,
to dig until your haversack is full.
With luck you’ll come back carrying a woolly mammoth bone,
or, disappointed, with a human skull.

You’ll watch the kiddies frolic in our balmy local lake,
where bracing waves of methane fill the air,
supplying to the greenhouse all the gases it can take—
now the permafrost is melting everywhere.

Our town is rich in history, there’s plenty to explore,
you’ll find out how things were in days gone by,
and come across mementoes from the lives that passed before,
the prisoners the state sent off to die.

by Chris O’Carroll

“While it’s not uncommon to see heavily armed white men toting military-grade gear on American streets,
the addition of the Hawaiian shirt is a new twist.”
—The New York Times

Fascism dressed in black or brown
Worked for Berlin and Rome,
KKK terrorists likewise
Made do with monochrome,

And Dixie fought for slavery
With soldiers wearing gray,
But racist insurrectionists
Sport floral prints today.

The Stars and Bars do not suffice
As colors for their tribe.
They want Aloha shirts to rock
A new, less laid-back vibe.

by Dan Campion

“The President does read and he also consumes intelligence verbally.”
—The President’s Press Secretary, Kayleigh McEnany

Well, what’s Don reading, if not words?
He chews on intel with his curds?
If he’s “the most informed” guy daily,
How come chaos rules him, Kayleigh?

Could you kindly let us know
Where what’s “consumed” from thence may go:
If not his brain, some lower parts
Less apt to ratchet up his smarts?

The world might seem less out of joint
If you could clarify this point:
What roils—top secrets, soup to nuts?—
The famous presidential guts.