POLITICAL Poem: The Unelected, by David Lohrey

After The Mosquito by D. H. Lawrence

You don’t know that I exist, and I don’t know that you exist.
Now then!

It is you, Trump,
It is you, hateful little Trump,
You pointed fiend,
Which shakes my sudden blood to hatred of you:
It is your small, hateful bugle in my ear. That incessant buzz.

Why do you do it?
Surely it is bad policy.
Melania says you can’t help it.

If that is so, then I believe in Providence protecting the
innocent.
But it sounds so amazingly like the slogan, MAGA,
A yell of triumph as you snatch my scalp.

Blood, red blood
Super-magical
Forbidden liquor.

I behold you stand
For a second enspasmed in oblivion.
Obscenely ecstasied

Sucking the live blood,
My blood.

You stagger
As well you may.
Only your accursed yellow wavey curls endure.
Your own imponderable weightiness, your bulk
Saves you, wafts you away on the very draught my anger makes in
Its snatching. A dirigible of lies, a blind torpedo

Away with a paean of derision, like a shrill Kamikaze,
You winged blood-drop, you speck, you ghoul on wings.

What a big stain my sucked blood makes
Beside the infinitesimal faint smear of you!
Odd, what a dim dark smudge you have disappeared into!