Scheiß Geld

By Cheryl Caesar

In that oval office, white

and bilious yellow, like the eye

of a jaundice case,

trump crinkles his fat and bleary eyes

for the cameras. His right

hand grabs the left hand

of the Saudi prince, and he growls,

No Biden fist bumps! I don’t care

where that hand has been!

Conscience-free, is he thinking

of the blood spatter from bone saws?

MBS grimaces. Is he thinking, Take it,

the unclean, anus-washing hand?

I doubt if either has read Freud,

who said gold represents shit

to the unconscious mind. But their faces

say, This is what we live in, this is

what we know. Like goldfish

in a murky bowl, ever eating

and excreting. A hoarded house. A bloated

case of constipation, who will always stuff

down another helping rather

than give it away. Leaving us to wonder:

If gold is shit, then what is the value of gilding?  

Cheryl Caesar is an ex- expatriate, having lived in Europe for 25 years before returning to her native Michigan. She teaches writing at Michigan State University, and serves as president of the Michigan College English Association. Her chapbook of protest poetry Flatman is available from Amazon, and her poems and artwork appear in both volumes of Words across the Water (Fractal Edge Press). In 2024, she won first prize for prose in the My Secret Lansing contest sponsored by the Lansing Arts Council.