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Teaching Politicians Empty Heat

poetry by Ashleigh Taylor

Teaching Politicians Empty Heat

When she says, “Fuck Donald Trump,”

i imagine consent, peeling away layers, 


excuse for formality, one

after another

rubbing up against his

supposed glory, his dick

dangling sadly


i would grab him by his

man-pussy, his

weak excuse for phallic

structure, defective vibrator.

i will make his dick swell so

that it breaks his idea of women


table lamps or chairs or


so that he sees my power.

I will teach him what it is to really

admire the warmth and presence of a 

body, to fuck

senselessly, carnally, and then

i will tear away the pretense, the 

longing, stealing his power.


it would be cathartic like

shaving death off yourself.


cathartic like dying before i can repeat my mistakes.


Ashleigh Taylor

Ashleigh Taylor is a recent college graduate who spends her days working retail, petting cats, and hunting for the elusive teaching
job. Her work can be found in The Oakland Review, Rivercraft, and Sanctuary Magazine.

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