Seen This Before
Once on a snowy Detroit street, I saw a dog I knew
Crouched, tail-tucked and teeth-bared,
Freezing and arrested in the the road
The Pound’s truck parked
Engine running, door flung open
And a man in uniform, purring love-words, recklessly,
A hand held out in friendship
While the other one, the driver,
Hung back quietly, looking for the net and noose…
This moment like an image in a snow globe
Unveils itself to me as I listen to the radio,
The tone and timbre of the bi-cameral address contested and considered by journalists
(like King Louie in his Hall of Mirrors, an eternal royal image in procession becomes the media’s reflection and obsession)
And the ostensibly more mellow autocrat was quoted for our endless delectation
As he speechified before the howling mob, barking in response to
The singing, soothing and smoothly blandished platitudes of unity
And some seem mesmerized by this new manner and have paused in hope,
But like my friend, the old dog – who had to learn sly new human tricks-
I realized that these soft words can only mean
That right this moment, someone else behind the scenes
Is carrying the stick