by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
An iPhone tweets. A giant safety pin
Secures a nappy bigly round a rump.
Lips snarl in anger through an orange skin:
It’s London’s famous blimp of Baby Trump!
Museum owners bought it to deflate,
Perhaps because—well, who’s had no such urge?—
And stuffed it in a suitcase to curate,
So history does not forget the scourge …
Across the Pond, at dawn Trump flew the coop
Because he could not face his loss with grace.
Limp like his blimp, he skulked off to regroup
In Mar-a-Lago’s self-affirming space,
Made mute as well as squashed—and all Joe’s mates
Pray daily that Trump never reinflates!