by Julia Griffin

“Joe Biden confuses Gaza with Ukraine in airdrop announcement”
—The Guardian

Life can’t be easy in the highest sphere.
The Presidency’s not a sinecure,
(Though Air Force One is comfortable, I hear,
And White House life has some distinct allure—
At least from what I gathered on the tour);
My point, however, is the stress and strain,
Which sometimes leads to slips one might deplore:
Like meaning “Gaza” when one says “Ukraine.”

When these occur, the other side will jeer,
And journalists act snide or faux-demure,
While chosen spokesters struggle to appear
Delighted to take questions from the floor,
And wholly unafraid of an encore.
The President, they’ll stonily explain,
Is weary; it is obvious, therefore,
We should think “Gaza” when we hear “Ukraine.”

There still remains three-quarters of a year
Before we’re in that polling booth once more,
Drawn, maybe, less by eagerness than fear;
When the alternative’s a vicious boor,
Bully, and fraud, with debts and writs galore—
Someone whose rightful domicile’s a drain—
Let’s pray the public’s able to endure
One who for “Gaza” sometimes says “Ukraine.”

ENVOI
Oh, Mr. President! Your heart is pure
(Or more or less): you’re decent and humane;
I’ll vote for you, but God! Would I were sure
You don’t mean “Gaza” when you say “Ukraine.”