red letter day
by william n. hicks

Since it is clear my dear good friends:
Consider this woman, only a girl, really
(He lifts her dress, shows her thigh, her hip)
This married, even presidential
(Pointing, the manicured nail glints, the ring flashes)--
There is a murmur, "yes, yes, mmmm," a stir
Shifting, benches, oak benches, glinting,
The smell of face powder, foundation, crenoline
(His hand is on her rump, which jiggles most delightfully)
Apalling, unprecedented, obscene, my friends
(He turns the girl, he spreads her legs with medical precision)
"Object," (it is the President)
The room erupts in titters
"Stand, Sir," (it is the Judge)
The laughter's done it's work--the presidential pants
Retain their pleats, untented, unintended irony--
"Bend over, then" (the Judge is apoplectic)
Her skirts are tossed above her head,
And hands crossed across the Defense Table,
Her deep dark eyes fix the presidential lap,
The Judge and Prosecuter cane her,
Fine bamboo from Singapore
(oh, how delectable, how white and soft and infinite)
Red White and Blue
(Hawthorne having, long and long ago,
Been disinterred from the curriculum)
Play "Hail the Chief" at the big man's funeral
By All Means

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