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.

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