Triplets in Trump Time

Photo: © Stefan Hengst. All rights reserved.

Two poems by Mike Wilson: “Measure for Measure” and “Hope.”

Measure for Measure

Time is thinking triplets,
triple beats breaking Bastille,
and I’d always thought I was a couplet man.

Little Hitlers
goose-step for Trump
but me and my friends are dancing a waltz.

Behind the madness
something is happening
angels quitting their day jobs, starting a band.


Kent State II but
lock and load with kisses
hollowpoints opening into flowers

3D guns can’t
kill kings of kindness
un-throne queens of moonlit love.

Dear rabid dogs
the new vet can cure you
the new world is a no-kill shelter

madness vapid vapor
dissipating in etheric sky
in a universe bigger than physical eyes see.

Our whirling lassos
will latch round your ankle
tenderly tighten a noose of safe hands.

This evening, a meeting,
me and my team of angels
plotting salvation—it’s what we do.

Mike Wilson, a writer in Lexington, Kentucky, has had work published in small magazines and in the U.S. and Europe including Appalachian Heritage, The Seventh Wave, The Aurorean and The London Reader and works forthcoming in Rathalla Review, Frogpond, and Edify Fiction.  He is the author of a biography, Warrior Priest: The Story of Father Roy Bourgeois and The School of the Americas.

Appears In

Issue 6

Browse Issues