This Horrifying Displacement (On Existence In Post-Trump America)

he spoke in broken words,
an anxious monologue
of guilt confessed and expiation…

me, numbed by the encounter,
and cast reluctant confessor
of an ordinary monster
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who committed such
unordinary acts
of blind obedience,

setting ablaze an entire village
with gasoline words ignited
by fists of flame,
trump-voter
and in the name of Great,
of Better…of fear.
And now he can’t get loose,

cannot silence from
his mind the screams
of those people.  Them.
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Now on a deathbed
of his own design
and no good sense

to even lay down
and be still, a last
desperate attempt
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to seek forgiveness
and what am I supposed
to say to this displacement,

this horrifying displacement?
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