Euphemism
A euphemism is a way
of saying what went down,
of neutralising all dismay,
and rubbing out the frown.
The bad stuff has by now occurred,
but let’s not raise the tension:
we need a mollifying word,
a less-than-stressful mention.
“We cannot say for sure, at all,
how World War Two will end:
you think we’ve got a crystal ball?
Who knows how things may tend?”
These words of Hiro Hito were
designed to calm the moms:
did no-one in Japan say, “Sir,
they’ve dropped two atom bombs”?
Imagine that your local church
(episcopal, suppose)
needs newbies, and is on the search
for Sunday-sucker-Joes.
“This Hitler guy, let’s not say why,
won’t be the perfect warden.”
And if your parents have to die,
what’s wrong with Lizzie Borden?
A dinner invite: you’re recruiting
a trusty baby-sitter –
Rasputin, maybe? Why not Putin?
You don’t want Gary Glitter?
The kids need someone, prima facie,
less controversial, calmer:
Spencer Tracy? Kevin Spacey?
Let’s book the Dalai Lama!
Count Dracula is not Count Basie
(self-harmer, instant karma):
but better yet than John Wayne Gacey
or even Geoffrey Dahmer.
Euphemism doesn’t work.
I’d rather know the truth.
So Humphrey Bogart was a jerk,
Roy Rogers and Babe Ruth.
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