April 5, 2019
Photo by Debbie Jones-Norberto

A Poem by Jack Wesdorp

From a dump far out of reach,
galump galump galump screech,
then a voice on a bullhorn,
sardonic and full of scorn,
“Royalty sucks rotten eggs
while the common hungry begs.
Are there any jobs to do,
eggs that we can lob at you?”
Then the dumpster with raised fist
galumps back into the mist.
Security doubles down,
cowed the head that wears a crown.
In the palace gloom that night
they’re struck dumb by ruin and fright,
revolution’s in the air,
outside heavy bugles blare.
Tanks are massing at the gate.
It is now! — and it can’t wait.
History will not recall
what befalls the fist at all.
What we’ll get is a report,
names expunged, the action short.
The famine lasts a year and
then the fields are manned again.


To submit a photo or poem, email Assistant Library Director Brittany Taylor at btaylor@clamsnet.org