Poem

Maxine Beneba Clarke
Boxtrolls

so hear us out,

 

        we invite that australian guy:

 

the PM with the big head

who loves god, and hates migrants

 

we put on a state dinner,

     all the trimmings, bells and whistles:

get his wife and melania

         all smiling, dolled up pretty

 

we glitter the white house,

                 let the fairytale unfurl

 

      and beam the goofy aussie: fan-boying

to the world

 

then, mister president,

       we wheel your friend out midwest

 

where the MAGAs’ll go wild,

goddamn lining the streets

 

listen, this shit’s important:

          your ratings are down

but we think you can fix them

    if you welcome this clown:

 

he’ll galah out your praises,

   and kangaroo through hoops

to try to consolidate

              his “friendship” with you

 

and the pièce de résistance:

              UN climate talks are on,

which he’s avoiding as well,

            so the timing is plum

 

and the place that we’ll send you

             – get this, mister trump –

we’ve found a box factory

for the media scrum

 

it’s bizarre and it’s genius;

       it’s random, but it’s not

 

’cause guess what, they’re recycled,

      owned by one of his lot:

some guy from down under,

i think his name’s pratt

 

sustainable and everything,

how about bloody that?

 

    while the UN is yapping

about blah blah blah climate

         you and aussie are working

on the ground, in ohio,

                 to save the world, and the jobs

       one pre-fold

at a time

 

what d’you think, mister president,

                       should we give it a try?

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