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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