Poems of the Week

The Trial

by Bruce Bennett

Once upon a horrid morning, while I pondered, sick and scorning,
How that monster still was squatting on our country and its lore—
Just before I turned the news on, well before I had my shoes on,
I had thoughts of something different, different from my thoughts before—
I was struck by some new hope, a hope I had not had before—
His conviction, yes, and more!

His removal, then his sentence: years in prison, stripped of Twitter.
He would pay for lies, corruption, graft, extortion, every deed
He’d connived in and kept hidden, every secret act forbidden,
His whole crooked lifetime public, brought to light, condemned with speed—
Law and order reestablished, acting now with force and speed—
Let him whine and moan and plead!

With that hope and now exalted, in the midst of hope I halted.
What if nothing came of what was now the only thing I craved?
What if he remains anointed? What if we are disappointed?
What if all of this proves fruitless that we’ve suffered for, and slaved?
What if he continues shameless, now unshackled, more depraved?
What if we can not be saved?

So, although I put my shoes on, I declined to turn the news on.
Better ignorance, I thought, than learning how Impeachment plays.
I will find out when the time comes if he’s guilty with his crime chums.
Meanwhile I will find some peace, and I will spend some pleasant days.
I will tell myself, Yes, really, we will have some pleasant days.
Really, this was just a phase.