In France, they know, and they don’t know. Savoir
The first French verb I ever knew, connu
The way we all know the phrase tip of your
Langue. Words found there could all be fast and new,
Pronounced chez pas (just like chez nous?) by natives,
Or maybe old, hard-won, protected by
Academies and smoothed from long-lost datives
Into reflexives, a certain navel-gazing I.
And now the Europeans vote again,
And no one looks to anyone to square
History’s spiral with the future. Then,
As good as now, were we doomed? Va savoir.
As Western civ runs out of savoir faire,
Its people know the future can’t be there.


Above all curiosities of the day
One reigned supreme from June to January.
His preposterous claims and hair passe
Held viewers captive with hilarity.
A country plagued by disbelief upon
Election night’s astonishing results.
The verdict, a national phenomenon,
Favored a business man hurling insults.
Indignation rose among the oppressed.
United by a common enemy
To rise above cruel factions in protest
Rather than sulking in despondency.
Now bans and walls exclude minorities
And those surrounded tire of their worries.