by Olga Wayne
Two partyholds, both alike in stubbornness,
On fair Potomac, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where "civil" folks are still all much too mean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes -
A pair of criss-cross running mates jump the stage;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Will not, even in victory, make country sage.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd ads,
And the continuance of their parties' rage,
Which, nominee's end, nought could remove,
May not, even despite the hoopla, turn the page.
But you - if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, your blood and sweat shall mend.
Olga Wayne is an attorney by day and a bard by night. She is a graduate of Harvard College and Temple Law School.
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