“My master sends me here to take your soul,”
the gnarly, nut brown elf proclaims with glee.
“It is his fervent wish and heartfelt goal
that you will pack your bags and come with me.
I know I’m not what you’d expect to see
on this your dying day, here at your door.
Perhaps you thought God’s grace would set you free?
We checked, He doesn’t want you anymore.
Look here, your name’s the first one on my roll;
‘The Donald didn’t win in Heaven’s poll.’ ”
“My master sees your soul is second rate,
an empty vessel void of love or care.
Your arrogance won’t let you hide the hate
behind whichever mask you choose to wear.
Convincing your supporters you would share
your business acumen… that’s quite a trick!
He’s so impressed with all your Faustian flair
for winning votes with racist rhetoric
and promises you’d make their country great.
You’ve won your just reward, come meet your fate.”
© Susan E. Eckenrode, 2017