POLITICAL Poem: #47, by David James

#47 [condemned either way]

I’m sorry but nothing you say
can convince me that he’s a Christian.

There’s no charity, no care for the poor and lost,
no concern for the sick and dying, no display
of love and kindness, empathy and generosity.
Where there should be mercy, there is none.

In this case, the one with sin
throws the first stone. In this case,
he would not forgive the prodigal son
but rather send him away to Guantanamo Bay.

Life is a game he needs to win,
which is why he bullies and threatens, lies and cheats.
He builds himself up by tearing others down.
Look at that scowl. Count the number of chins
under his neck when he ad-libs and goes off-script.

If only we could be there after he dies to watch him meet
his maker—what will God say to the orange man?
What judgment awaits in the afterlife?

Will he be tossed in the grinder, shred into meat
or burned to a crisp, wind-blown across this great land?