Poetry

Eduardo Munoz/Reuters

By

Wayne F Burke

Thump

a loud THUMP on the door of

liberty

has splintered the wood,

shattered the glass;

the barbarians are at the gate:

the alarm sent too late,

Alaric in the driver’s seat

and boots tramping on varnished floors,

heels ground,

drums beat…

A seismic shift and

spin and axis altered–

a redneck win,

hick victory,

evangelical triumph–

the looting of the shrines begins–

the Know Nothings, disavowed by the Republic

in the 19th Century,

have arisen from the dead

and the country trembles.

Herr Trumpf

the redneck loudmouth hicks

and the bigots

have elected one of their own,

an orange-tinted diabolical businessman

who loathes his own constituents

and is using the dumb-fucks

to gain power

in order

to glorify his ego

a bottomless pit

that there is not glory enough

to ever come close to filling–

the know-nothings mumble trumpf

trumpf trumpf

as unsavory brown-shirts tramp

tramp tramp

mud

onto White House carpets…

the Statue of Liberty has sunk

into the harbor

and the Liberty Bell, already cracked,

has fallen to pieces.

Wayne F Burke

Wayne F. Burke has published three poetry collections with Bareback Press and a poetry chapbook with Epic Rites Press. He lives in the democratic state of Vermont, USA