The President Asserts my taming.

I was half tamed, maybe,
but that was yesterday.
Tonight instead I am the tamer;
this is a tamer’s day.

The President asserts my taming.
I respond:
what makes you think me tamed?
Someone said once
that to love is to tame.
I don’t smell love on you.
I don’t smell anything on you.

The President asserts my taming.
I respond:
meh, and eh, and fuck-all I am.
I see how little you grasp in fact
in those hands.
I hear how little of the world
you grasp.
I hear how little you are
and if you think me tame now,
I feel how tenuous your grasp is
on me, on us,
on fact.

The President asserts my taming.
I respond: Prez, baby,
I want to tame each of your children.
Cut their hair, cut their tongues,
take their names, take their souls
in my arms to squeeze. Been there, done that,
got the DNA test, and I’m more than the sum
of what you call tame. 
Let’s see how they do.
Let’s see how you do.

Prez, baby love, sweet lips, 
orange sunshine,
when did your family get here?
Mine were watching from a safe distance
when you got off the boat.
Sure as fuck you were tame then,
Prez.  Sure as fuck you were
cowards and hiders. There’s proof.

The President says we have been tamed.
The President says he’s not going to apologize
for America.
I don’t want him to apologize.

I want to tame him.

Tame him hard.
Tame him so hard he forgets
who he is.

Afterward we can ask him
who needs to apologize,

see what he says,
if anything. See what his kids say,
if they even know.