Poetry at its Finest

Although I’m not the biggest fan of poetry, sometimes I astound myself with how well I can write it; or at least imitate it. We read a poem titled Elvis Presley and Emily Dickinson in Heaven. I didn’t love it  that much, enjambment makes me mad, but I was still able to replicate it and maybe even improve upon it.

 

George Washington and Richard Nixon in Heaven

 

They call each other “P”. Nixon burns

files en masse in his office and hides

them from the Washington. Washington chastises him in a lofty, learned accent.

 

In heaven Washington wears his hair slicked back, wears

leisure suits and shapes his fingers into a ‘V’

Nixon wears powdered wigs, false teeth

 

knickers, and a gold-trimmed tricorne.

They have long talks about constitutionality and often disagree

Washington prefers that Nixon remain dead. Forever.

 

Washington’s speeches now contain hippies, Vietnam,
communists, civil disobedience, and the American way.

 

Nixon learns a bit about honesty. This afternoon

he learns it’s wrong to lie and cheat and whistles the National Anthem.

 

Both will sing along. Alone

in their oval offices later, they will listen to the anthem

and preside. They will not think of foreign aggressors

or communists. They know why God made them

roommates. It’s because they preside over America. It’s because

 

their country is great, even if one of them wasn’t. It’s because

God is an American.

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