poem after an election

Day After Election Day poem

there’s no Heineken language
that hits all the spots -
it is sad great news -
one nation’s landslide

another seat’s crushing
defeat; who can speak
for unintelligible masses
except a monoglot despot

or popular turn of hate;
December is bitter
and bright - election day
darkens like paganism

into night. The wolves
that bay are starving brothers.
We must lie to one another
to make even marginal gains.

14 December, 2019, London
t.s.

Comments

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