God Salsa

by Ben Niespodziany

The Senator
went into
the factory
to halt production
on the new moon.

It’s too soon,
he shouted,
it’s too soon.

His wife
was writing
a blank check
to a death squad.

His God
was hogging
all the salsa.

Somewhere in the same
time zone,
a mayor voted
against himself
and won.