Four years ago with Donald Trump taking an oath
he never meant to keep, my mood was very different than the joyful celebration today. This poem was an introduction to my Poems of Resistance, the bulk of all my
verse these last years
January 20, 2017
The locomotives
are aligned on a single track,
throttles lashed wide open,
the engineers jump as they pick up
speed
belching black smoke and urgency.
The time has
come, nothing can stop it now.
There is nothing
to do but stare slack jawed
or turn your head and cringe.
If in your
enthusiasm for the spectacle
and to get your money’s worth
for the excursion ticket,
you crowd too eagerly close,
you are riddled with cast iron
shrapnel
and scalding steam.
It’s exactly
like that.
—Patrick
Murfin
I'm busy extracting the shrapnel, hoping for a little time to repair.
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