The core problem

Hello, friends. Halloween is Saturday, and after that the election on Tuesday. Watching President Trump do his shouting rants from rallies to the White House lawn seems to make “The Core Problem” a poem appropriate for this national moment. If you haven’t already voted by mail or in person at the board of elections, casting a ballot on November 3 is one thing we all can do in these uncertain times. Thanks, Gene

“The Core Problem”

Outside Convention Hall in 1787,
they asked Benjamin Franklin what sort
of government they were creating:

“A republic, if you can keep it.”

Many problems might pull the nation
back to monarchy, or dictatorship
to crush new freedoms: a perilous moment.

We might blame unlimited greed,
the root virtue of capitalism,
or the splendor of fame and power.

Enough there to subvert democracy,
but nothing as deadly as not telling
truth from lies, facts from fables.

Such is the bedrock sickness
of president Donald J. Trump,
a profoundly pathological narcissist.

Caravaggio painted him in “Narcissus
Staring at His Image.” We all have some
of him in us, but not so much.

Donald would never see a therapist about it,
as ensuing panic would threaten the bully
ranting at rallies, spewing anger and hate.

He would undermine his core self,
the pompous and pitiful victim
pleading for love and kissing-up.