by Brendan Beary
Come on—go gentle into that good night;
Don’t claim you were the victim of a fix.
The votes are in. Admit you lost the fight.
Insisting you’ve prevailed? Ha-ha, not quite.
Although there were some states still in the mix—
Uncertainties upon election night—
They’ve been decided, most of them, despite
Your lawyers’ lame attempts to eighty-six
The Constitution. They can’t win this fight.
Your petulance and pettiness and spite
May help you win retweets and likes and clicks;
The tirades lasting long into the night
May serve to whet your base’s appetite,
But it’s no substitute for politics.
The votes are counted now. You lost the fight.
We’re sick and bloody tired of this, all right?
Denial, obstinacy, dirty tricks,
Like “loser” is a fate you have to fight?
Do not. Go gentle into that. Good night.