Kindly note, dear friends,
That the tyrant has finally been imprisoned
In the second line of this poem
Watch him shrinking here
In the second stanza
Listen, he’s weeping
Rivulets of his tears
Of what: rage? remorse? Fear?
Snake their way from his cell
Into this stern, unforgiving stanza
Only to disappear
Down this one’s drain
Put your ear to the next line:
Songs of freedom!
And here the poem thinks
It will end
Clumsy, clueless
Just beginning
- New York, January 21, 2024
