I have a fist full of anger.
But I cannot aim it at Trump
or his enablers.
What ever I pick up to do
the anger contaminates the task
no matter how much I think I have let it go.
I tried washing my hands with soap and water.
I tried washing my hands with turpentine.
I tried rubbing some dirt into my palms.
I picked up a flattened stone
and wrote Anger on it
then skipped it across a lake’s surface.
All I accomplished was for my anger
to ripple across the lake
and out through the countryside.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney