by Susan McLean

I believe in the power of the pose.
It’s a photo op. Were you expecting prayers?
The Bible’s just a book—and who reads those?

I believe in the laws of CEOs.
Whose judgment counts, the courts’ or billionaires’?
I believe in my power to oppose

our longtime allies, and suck up to foes.
You give your word, you break it—no one cares.
Treaties are merely words—and who reads those?

I believe in resentment, how it grows
in those who’ve lost the perks they see as theirs.
I stoke that rage and use it to dispose

of designated vermin. Techno bros
are keen to help. Their troop of hackers spares
no one. Commitments bore me—who needs those?

I believe that veterans are schmoes:
a wise man stays at home and counts his shares.
Their safety net’s less firm than they suppose.
Ethics are for the weak—and who needs those?