Poem about McCain’s hatespeech.

Posted by Kate G. in US Election 2008.

Wet, stinking
Soaking their shoes
It trickles down the soapbox
And down Main Street

Like all liquid it races
For lower ground
In a quiet
Snaking flow

Burning eyes and ears
As we hear and see
The man with the plan
And the can.

A spark
From a bullet fired
Or a match
Or the slowly smoldering coals
Of fear.

Common sense burns
Like flesh,
Peeling away to reveal
The hard whiteness of hate

Smiling its Halloween
Grin at us,
As if to say
“I never left.”

Who holds the fuel?

Follow the trail
Of flames
Back, back,
To the man whose hands
Are wet.

US Election 2008 |