November 2020

The election has been won but the loser won’t concede
A paralyzed state in such a time of need
With the coming of the winter, an exponential rise
Of intubated patients with the wool ripped from their eyes
While they’re lying on their deathbeds, and just the prior week
They were at a super-spreader, hearing the president speak
Shouting their approval of the fantasies he spun
The virus will subside, soon the battle will be won

Air war in Ethiopia, flooding in Sudan
Trenches along the front lines in Azerbaijan
A flare-up in Kashmir, while the South China Sea
Is filling up with destroyers from the US Navy
Brazil is still on fire, climate chaos reigns
They ran out of letters in the alphabet for all the hurricanes
By the time the new vaccine might really arrive
The US may lose a million more lives

It’s November 2020, it’s been quite a year
I can’t imagine where we’ll be once December is here

Right now the virus is killer number three
No question at this point what number one will be
By the end of this month, when the hospitals are packed
Along with the freezer trucks where the bodies will be stacked
And as all the Covid wards try to rise up to the task
Half the governors in the country don’t want to wear a mask
Or cancel rents or mortgages, or provide meaningful relief
For the families waiting for a check to come in their hour of grief


What if the darkest hour, if you’re not talking smack
Is before everything goes completely black
The virologists are watching the impending train wreck
While the cops are busy with their knees upon the necks
Of the essential workers, picking the fruit trees
Working in the warehouses and dying of disease
If ICE does not arrest them and deport them from their beds
To make sure Guatemala gets its fair share of the dead