Trump pardons turkeys. Murder, though,
is something we can just let go.
The Saudi Prince has crossed no line.
The Saudis buy our arms. It’s fine.
We’ve made a deal. Why make a fuss?
What matters is the U.S. Us.
But one day soon the ax will fall
on what makes turkeys of us all.
“After President Donald Trump suggested Finland has few wildfires because the nation spends a lot of time ‘raking and cleaning’ forest floors, many were confused. … Under the hashtag #haravointi (‘raking’), some Finns spent this weekend grabbing their gardening tools—with the more creative types picking up their vacuums and Roomba devices— and visiting the woods to document their public service.”—Vox
Hoovering a Finnish forest,
As the flower of Finland do,
I observed a foreign tourist
Who had clearly not a clue.
“Sir,” he frowned, “what is your meaning,
If a stranger might inquire?”
I responded, “I am cleaning
To avoid the risk of fire.
“This commission is entrusted
To each able-bodied Finn;
For as long as woods are dusted,
Conflagrations can’t begin.
“It’s the safest sort of science,
Inexpensive and discreet;
Simply wield this small appliance,
And you halt excessive heat.
“Friend, it is a blest maneuver
Which the States should swiftly learn!
For without a timely hoover,
You’ll have nothing left to burn.”
“‘Pure joy’: refugees fleeing conflict delighted by first snow in Canada” —The Guardian 12th November 2018
Out of danger, far from home,
Meet strange welcome overseas
Where it’s cold and monochrome.
Bundled up against the freeze,
Running out of doors they find
White above, before, behind:
Everywhere, completely real!
And they cup their hands in glee,
Tasting winter like a meal:
Earth’s clean generosity.
Kids at last, they jump and squeal,
Letting all of YouTube know
How utterly they love the snow.
Justice is broken, she lies on the floor,
and if she should die, there’ll be justice no more.
We’d like to believe she is strong, she is tough,
but she’s fragile and old and it hurts her to cough.
He says she is rapidly losing her mind.
The justice he likes is a different kind,
one that’s drunken and feral and never quite blind,
and kisses his royal fake POTUS behind.
He sits on his throne, as he schemes and he tweets.
Justice is broken; we take to the streets.