ON SEEING A GOVERNMENT MINISTER

BEING INTERVIEWED ON TV,

and determining to stop paying                                  

the licence fee

 

 

Those are the eyes of a killer.

What hungering void, or dream,

or wound consumes behind?

 

Those are the words of a killer.

They are the twistings

of a well-schooled mind.

 

Those are the hands of a killer,

gesturing a semaphore of power.

What command papers have they held,

consigning some to death by slow degrees,

and some by instant fire?

 

The killer curves his mouth in a lean grin.

I see a shark, in his element,

sure of his next and every win.

 

The killer manages a judicious tear.

(“I empathise; I go to church; I care...”)

I see an obvious reptile here.

 

The killer laughs.

I see an alpha ape,

exulting in his dominance.

 

Enough!

I cannot thole this monster

and his arrogance.

 

        I’ve pulled the plug.