The Rally
P. H. Wise
I sat in the rally and listened to him speak
in glittering generalities and taking great care
to tell a tasteful joke or two, here and there.
The crowd laughed in all the right places
he tugged on their puppet strings
with a quick grin and a charming manner.
He spoke of things that mattered
of family values and good old American apple pie,
and how he would bring it all back
if they would only vote for him.
And the lights were carefully placed
to mask the sweat that streamed down his face.
'Surely this is the one who will change everything!
Surely he is the one.'
Their hope hung heavily in the air,
but they were all of them deceived.
The politician's words rang out
like the noisome exhalation
of an ancient grave freshly opened.
His words were corpse-rot,
and his aim, like the very word that gnaws -
to feed, to breathe,
and lay its eggs in our putrefying flesh.
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