Withered

“Dismal vases of dying flowers.” That's what
I think as I look at the faces at rallies for Trump
And of bikers in Sturgis. Old and fat and white
And malevolent, scowling, stupid, though not
Quite able to hide from the thought that their
World is ending, they'll have their last parties
And cheer for their champion, foulest
And possibly dullest of all. Petals are falling,
Stalks growing bare. Soon enough, the vases
All will be emptied, and fresh flowers placed
Into them.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
Written on 2020-08-13 at 15:50

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