The year of the rooster
could be like a rocket booster,
a launch into the perilous unknown.
What with the selection
of a crude orange erection,
we’ve lifted off into the twilight zone.
A strutting bandy tweeting unto dawn
with billionaires surrounding him to fawn
could turn this lunar year into disaster.
He’ll stock the farm with nukes
and fill the coop with kooks,
a game of chicken in which he’s the master.