The Second Coming Reprised

After Yeats

Turning and turning in the Washington gyre
The politicians cannot hear the people;
The country falls apart; the center cannot hold;
The Southern Strategy is resurrected 
And loosed upon the world,
The brain-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of Democracy is drowned;
The center lacks all conviction, while the margins   
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some correction is at hand;
Surely a reckoning is at hand.   
The reckoning! Hardly are those words out   
When a harrowing vision vexes my sight: 
Somewhere in sands of Florida   
A man with no morals and the ego of a spoiled child,   
A character as dark and dangerous as dictatorship,   
Is shambling his way to power, while all about him   
Reel the shadows of grasping sycophants.   
The damage is done; and now I know   
That two centuries of spotty democracy, 
Are turned to nightmare again by a narcissist’s dream,   
When a terrifying clown, his hour come round at last,   
Slouches toward Washington to be crowned.

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