Move, mind, for it is high damn time,
Up with currents, which have the jump on us.
We worms have spent a measured life, peacetime
In body and home soil, inching thus, thus,
And noticing no changes in the flow,
Or in our very cells. Until the second
Of our becoming something new, we know
No thing, and stick with what is there, and next,
And next. If larger force is in the air,
We have no way of making use of it.
And if above us, other wills wreak where
Their limbs are, walking, we see none of it.
Until the morning, stunned, unfrozen, sprung,
We’re drawn to light as moths, and, knowing, flung.
My head is spinning from this past month’s news;
By the week Trump’s being seems to change!
A personality he cannot choose,
Trades “yes” for “no,” a puzzling exchange
That puts our country’s fate in fickle hands.
In fear, I watch the White House move the target,
A plethora of fraught partisan plans.
But can the man himself follow their argot? Syria, Trumpcare, NATO, and ISIS—
Matters of life and death remain capricious.
Each issue leads to crazed internal crisis!
But good or bad, Trump’s certainly ambitious.
Each day brings forth positions unexpected,
And still I don’t know what we have elected.
A bomb blast brightens prospects for Gorsuch;
Dropped on bitter, ungarlanded liberals.
This catastrophic nuke serves to debauch
The Senate, and its check on force imperial.
The marble-columned Capitol’s eroded,
By winds of change and shifting sands beneath,
By filibusters’ busted wills imploded
Till courtly cloture on the Court’s deceased.
With options nuclear, we self-destruct;
Partisans of the enemy rush in.
Our Cold War language has become unstuck, Applied now to Blue and Red, not Russians.
Had filibuster’s compromise endured,
Our rights might mutually be assured.