To the Administration

Forget that I’ve got legs filled with sycamore and strings enough to garrote myself, or you. I’ll not invoke your name in the silent daylight, nor in the laden hours after. I’ve got enough voodoo to tell how this is all going to end and I see a horseman in white, no in blue. He’s got two heads and a ferocious backhand, is followed by twin queens with smirking hands crowned with marigolds. They say, “Words are fluid enough to drown in. Beware the one with a tongue half as bright as the moon.”

Dear Smuckers,
(I write in my letter)
Your jam is good,
but grandma's is better.
I go ape for your grape
and your peach takes the cake
but the truth must be told
your strawberry's old
and the raspberry smells like cheddar.