Melania. A poem
Melania Trump
By Bob Gaydos
Melania figured she had nothing to lose
Since Donny was stuck
in the Straight of Hormuz.
Commandeer his podium.
Summon the press.
Make sure her maid finds just the right, modest dress.
***
“Good afternoon, media people,
I have something to say.
Something vich troubles me every day.
“I vill talk about Epstein, who I never knew.
Never slept with him either. Who vould? Vould you?
Those pictures you see are phony.
The stories, too.
The old ones, the new ones.
The ones in the files, too.
“I met Donald purely by chance,
at a New York singles mixer.
No one named Jeffrey or Ghislaine
was the fixer.
“So don’t bother, Congress,
to call me to testify.
I know nothing. Never saw any island.
That, too, is a lie.
Better you should call all those girls,
the victims, to speak.
Let them tell their awvful stories.
Make those powerful men shudder.
Make them look veak.
“Thank you for listening.
And now I must go.”
***
No questions. No answers.
Just good bye and hello.
***
Much later that night and weary from war,
a president spoke to his country.
‘Twas raw.
Forgoing news media, as is his wont,
He chose to be social. The better to taunt.
But there was naught
‘bout his wife’s earlier talk
about Epstein and victims
and that chance meet in New York.
Nor words of anger or frustration.
No unnecessary drama.
Merely a seemingly random video
of a man
beating a woman
to death
with a hammer.
Tags: Congress, Epstein, files, Ghislane, hormuz, media, Melania, president, social media, victims, war
