by Mary Kunz

I want to take a pin
and punch that balloon,
that buffoon,
that egotistical blowhard.

It is not enough that he normalize himself.
No. I want to see that ego punctured,
taken down more than a peg,
covered in mud.

Now he’s a laughing stock.
Everyone sees it.
Everyone sees I am right.

But now I find myself looking out for pins.
I avoid mirrors.
I can’t catch my breath.
I have no more room for air.