Ninety Grand: a poem about Jennifer Boyle

Racist Trump supporter (is there any other kind?) identified and shamed on social media

She says that she makes ninety grand a year
as if this makes her something more than flesh,
as if the woman serving her is less
by virtue of her lower hourly rate;
as if the ones who wait are willed to serve
by something more than just dumb fucking luck;
as if the force that wills the gap she claims
to shout across were anything like just.

She says that she makes ninety grand a year.
She claims to be the victim, claims to be
the target of some fantasy campaign.
She says the man she voted for has won,
so there. She says we should look at who won.
So there, she says. We should look at who won.

She says that she makes ninety grand a year.
She says the man she voted for has won,
attacks as traitors those who intervene,
rants tinnily from my computer screen,
while in another open tab I read
her previous employer say it's been
six months since she was sacked. Her social sites
name no employer currently. She says
the man she voted for has won; she claims
that she makes ninety grand a year.

By nine that night her LinkedIn site is down.