How can we express what you mean to us?
How will we ever find words to let you know
how those beastly shots of your saggy pants
and quivering jowls hunched over a putter
that cost enough to feed a struggling family
for a year or more are seared on our brains.
How your emoluments-clause-violating deals
and properties have made a mockery out of
an office you unjustly hold. Not to mention all
of the criminal complaints filed against you, or
your propensity for obtuse rhetoric and inept
dithering. Your cruelty is a white sheet and
a bonfire, seductive to ignorance and fear, but
transparent to animals, children, and (we hope)
even to fools whose laissez-faire voting, or lack
thereof, enabled you to win. No. You leave us
with no other choice than to turn your own words
against you, to fire you and lock you up, where
you can’t wreak the havoc that brings a gleeful
sparkle to your faded eyes. Once you’re gone,
we will set to scouring your unhealthy stain from
our history, from our name, from every newspaper
page and screen bearing your falsehoods—
your lies. Oh, and by the way, has anyone ever
told you how the hatred and spite you evince
(and evoke) bring Mussolini to mind? Or Nazis.
And, why not Nazis?
After all, if the tiny, bespoke shoe fits...
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six