Our Potus who hides us
from sea to lake crisis
hollow is your name.
Thy Kingdom rots
from east evidence storms
to trans west fires.
Feed us our daily diversions.
Forgive us our not tots
as we forgive those
who abandon us.
And lead us not into fees and tolls,
but deliver us our lowly titles
and our vulnerable genders,
our human based prayers.
The Coming of the Toads 