Renee Nicole Good Is Murdered

Up rides the super cops,
The cancellation squad.
A dormant virus, melted from
The ice pack,

And the conversation
Is end-stopped when
The shell cracks her
Car window, does its
Dumb duty,
Brings silence
To a poet’s mind.

The President says:
You’re a terror bot
If you don’t comply.
Homeland security
Puts on a ten gallon
Texas size hat,
Says see what fucking
With the bull gets you.

There is a picture of her
Just before it tips rancid,
Just before she’s dragged
Into how they see her.

I wish I could read the words
As they blaze their last, unsuspected
Race through her skull.
A language poem that ends on
The word
Impossible.