Trump Train Wreck
yesterday
watched men try to ride
in some graceful fashion
a flying, spinning, gyrating, horned beast
for eight seconds
probably should feel sorry
for the exploited beasts
but none of them grimaced in pain
and limped away cradling
an injured limb
however
there was this weird,
hornless, white as snow "thing"
lurched out, fell back on the chute,
reeled and tipped, almost falling,
then it bucked, finally
too late for any good
red flagged when he stumbled
out of the gate
that sorry freak of an animal
is half the rider's score
if he can't do his part
it's a re-ride (on something better)
correct for me
to pity that poor creature,
I know–but––really?
his name was Trump Train
I'm gonna go find an election prop
and bet all I can wager
his namesake
doesn't survive the primaries
Trump Train
yeah, right
more like
Trump Train Wreck
Copyright © Steven Young | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment