by David Hedges

The Don believes that he should win
A Nobel Prize, or five or six.
In Physics, he has shown that spin,
When issued from a looney bin,
Can pulverize our politics.

In Chemistry, he’s proved that air
Can hold more carbon than we thought.
In Medicine, the wear-and-tear
He’s heaped upon Obamacare
Gives private plans a booster shot.

In Economics, he has shone,
Imposing tariffs left and right
For reasons only he alone
Can fathom (if he has a bone
To pick, you’re in his line of sight).

In Literature, no one alive
Or dead and in his grave competes
In volume or in hyperdrive
With Prexy Number Forty-five
When he taps out his fearsome tweets.

The Peace Prize looms just out of reach.
He’s asked dear Vladimir to dance,
And they’ve found novel ways to breach
Time-honored protocols; impeach
The Don, and peace will stand a chance.