Seven years ago, with Donald Trump taking an oath he never meant to keep, my mood was very dark. This poem was an introduction to my Poems of Resistance, a little self-published (and out of print) chapbook.
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
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