by Chris O’Carroll

We know that he’s a fan of breasts.
He’s said 10s seldom have flat chests.
But should the WHO
Promote breastfeeding? No, no, no!
Hooters are for recreation,
Not gross pastimes like lactation.
No wonder his administration
(Eyeing a big campaign donation?)
Favors any corporation
With a faux milk formulation.

by Phil Huffy

I liked to ride in first-class seats
while sipping wine from crystal flutes,
arrayed in tactical attire
accessorized with belts and boots.

I sought a soundproof office booth
to keep my phone calls under wraps.
A Cone of Silence, if you will,
to smartly stifle leaks or taps.

I found myself a bargain room
with free TV and breakfast perks.
If some suspected quids pro quo,
well that’s just how the system works.

My wife’s employment prospects grew
despite the consternation wrought
by reaching out to Chik-fil-A
and other prospects crudely sought.

So now I’ll leave behind my guards,
my silver pens and SUV.
Another waits to take the reins;
by all accounts, much worse than me.

by Julia Griffin

“It is a moment of birth that has previously proved elusive, but astronomers say they now have the first confirmed image of the formation of a planet. The startling snapshot shows a bright blob—the nascent planet—travelling through the dust and gas surrounding a young star, known as PDS70, thought to be about 370 light years from Earth.” — The Guardian

NOVA NEWS: July the 2nd,
To the lovely PDS
In Centaurus (widely reckoned
Quite the constellar address),

Healthy baby, bright and massy,
Credit to his beaming Ma;
Vigorous, if somewhat gassy,
As the best of infants are.

Noting how his growth progresses,
Gossips in the Moon Review
Intimate that Baby S is
Known to friends as PDQ;

Anyway, the comet chorus
And the telescope cartel
Back the newsflash from Centaurus:
Star and Planet Doing Well.

by Chris O’Carroll

Liberty-flibberty,
Hemings and Jefferson
Made an arrangement in
Black, white, and gray.

Master/slave congress proved
Philoprogenitive.
Also consensual?
Harder to say.

by Daniel Galef

Oyez, Rise! Oyez, Rise!
Anthony Kennedy,
Reagan appointee who
Sometimes swung blue,

Fought for gay rights, now (un-
Jurisprudentially)
Ceding his swing vote—and
Whom even to?

by Jerome Betts

“England centre back John Stones
has described Colombia as ‘the
dirtiest team I’ve ever played against.’”
— The Guardian

Although against their captain’s shirt
Jules Rimet’s cup would not be nestling,
One team found balm to soothe the hurt—
They’d clearly come out top in wrestling.

by James Higgins

How did words originate? What theory charts the birth?
In bow-wow theory, Man apes sounds all ‘round—for all he’s worth.
In pooh-pooh theory, Man responds to worry or surprise
or pain or fear. (In pooh-pooh theory, that’s how words arise.)

In ding-dong theory, Man reverberates with Nature’s tone.
(Of all the theories, ding-dong seems the one most overblown.)
In ta-ta theory, like the one we know as yo-heave-ho,
Man’s tongue mimes gestures made while he hoes yet another row.

In la-la-theory, Man’s inspired by playfulness and love.
Now one new theory’s superseded all of the above.
In womp-womp theory, language starts when misanthropic men
poke fun at children’s suffering. It’s happening again.

by Mark Granier

Pruitt
muttered “Screw it”
as the environment
celebrated his retirement.

Cohen,
seemingly, has grown
to finally understand the score
and who not to take a bullet for.

Shine
has joined the line
shadowing each sycophant
where the sun can’t.

by Rhina P. Espaillat

To make sure that the richest stay rich,
to leave everyone else in a ditch,
starve the poor, and screw labor
and our copper-skinned neighbor,
let’s all stick to this son of a bitch!

by Mae Scanlan

to the tune of “Gonna Take a Sentimental Journey”

I just took a monumental journey
On Air Force One to Singapore;
‘Twas not Barack, or Hillary or Bernie,
No, it was ME! I warded off war!

This Kim Jong Un, he’s got a lot of talent;
I sized him up, like, one, two, three.
We made a deal, and he was very gallant;
I like J.U., and he likes me.

Rockets?
They’re no longer on his dockets;
I’ve got Kim in both my pockets;
These aren’t just flukes—
He’s quashing his nukes!

I’m very proud of how I have succeeded;
The Nobel Prize will soon be mine.
I’m just exactly what this country needed;
I may just be (don’t laugh) DIVINE.

by James Hamby

I said “dictator”
But I swear I’m no hater;
We all make mistakes in the booth.
I didn’t mean to suggest
Trump isn’t the best:
And I’m sorry for telling the truth.

by Bruce Bennett

He won’t invite the Eagles.
He bans the NBA.
But Justify’s a winner.
Who knows? Perhaps today

He’ll welcome to the White House
a champion with class,
and we will see him paired with
another horse’s ass.

by Orel Protopopescu

This lawsuit shouldn’t trouble any members of Trump’s base.
A hundred phony charities won’t loosen their embrace.
His troops of weary lawyers may declare in his defense:
Trump’s tragic deficits required his own benevolence.

by Edmund Conti

“You could have the best hotels in the world right there.”—Trump to Kim

There’s a small hotel
In a place like Hell
I wish you two were there together

There’s a place to tweet
One room bright and neat
Where you can comb your hair together

Looking through the window
You can see a new Trump Tower
What a sign of power! Yours, mine, our.

When the ocean breeze
Says you’re going to freeze
You’ll smile and both say “cheese” together.

by Dan Campion

Pardon me, bud,
Is that the Mar-a-Lago choo choo?
Track four-to-nine?
Pal, just levy a fine.
I can afford
To board the Mar-a-Lago choo choo.
I’ve got my fare.
Prosecute if you dare.

You leave the Lincoln Bedroom ’bout a quarter to four,
Read your Twitter feed and then you’re out the front door.
Dinner full of starches
Under golden arches,
You’ll get there by limousines, not cell block marches.

When you hear the Secret Service burble last straw,
Then you know for sure that you’re above common law.
Shovel all the chips in;
Let clowns get their quips in.
Whoo, whoo, Mar-a-Lago pardon’s our draw.

There’s gonna be
A certain pardon at the White House,
Up-my-sleeve ace
I used to call “a disgrace.”
Justice may weep
Until I put the old gal to sleep.
So Mar-a-Lago choo choo,
Like throne bearers in Rome,
Mar-a-Lago choo choo,
Won’t you choo choo me home?