The moon comes up trumps
on fourteenth November, determined to outshine
the golden hair of political aspirants. Man, dress’d in brief authority,
performs fantastic tricks; will May set sail from Europe
on fearful course of political expediency?
Urbane discourse becomes the trolls of social media,
Faraging in their own back yard. And yet the moon
controls the ebb and flow of human fate,
And when the new world order’s long since gone
she will arise to light the ember’d earth.