relentless
in his impetuous prolix
pronouncements
Could bend even
the most patient
sturdy ear to
the breaking point
with his crooked
rivers of words.
Did the President really just tweet
That the FBI’s reputation is
In tatters,
That the FBI’s reputation
is the worst in history?
As they close in on him.
I wish, instead,
That he’d strode confidently
into a garden
of roses
Winked on top of a dry
wry smile,
Opened his mouth, and said
nothing at all---like a stone---
As inquisitive listening flies gathered
in his suddenly silent mouth
While fluttering flocking pigeons
flitted
on suddenly scarecrow arms.
As squirrels around the man’s
stone cold feet
squirreled away
just enough acorns
for a suddenly warmer winter
While the felicitous sun
rose and set every day
After day
After day
After day.
And the man never spoke again.
© Gil Hoy
Gil Hoy is a Boston poet and trial lawyer who is studying poetry at Boston University through its Evergreen program. Hoy’s poetry has appeared, most recently, in Ariel Chart, Poetry24, Social Justice Poetry, The Penmen Review, Right Hand Pointing/One Sentence Poems, The New Verse News and Clark Street Review.
