Poems of the Week

The Game

by Barbara Loots

“‘Dodgy looking’ clip of Trump playing golf in Scotland sparks cheating debate”
The Guardian

“The president has been accused of cheating relentlessly at his favorite pastime…”
The Daily Beast

Where is the prez while democracy dies?
Out on the golf course improving his lies.

His score’s always lower than most other folks’.
He pardons himself quite a number of strokes.

“You’re down in the weeds?” says the prez. “Oh, that’s tough!
My beautiful balls never land in the rough.

“My drive’s in the water? Well, don’t look around—it
Just landed right here in the cup where I found it!

“Birdies and pars! I’m the champ at this sport.
It’s a gimme whenever my putt’s a bit short.

“Rules are for suckers. I play my own game.
If you’re the big loser—well, you take the blame.

“As golf buddies go, I’m the World’s Number One.
I’m always the winner and isn’t that fun?

“I don’t give a f**k if you don’t win a hole.
I’ve already raked in your dues—and your soul.”