A Confederacy of Dumptys: Portraits of American Scoundrels in Verse

by John Lithgow

Straining on past midnight, they ignored the passing hours, Their heavy lift a peaceful shift of governmental powers. Across the floor at 10 to 4, at last the vote was called: Joe Biden, a new president, was finally installed. At dawn, the Congress stumbled out past stacks of trash and rubble, Riding out a day and night of terror, toil, and trouble. Though haunted by the echo of the long-departed crowd, Our beleaguered old democracy was bloodied but unbowed. In the White House, Dumpty thundered after thirty sleepless hours, Raging at the loss of all his autocratic powers. But his fury sputtered unexpressed for lack of a transmitter: His ravings had been muted by his banishment from Twitter. He staggered to his bedroom where he crumpled in a heap. His adrenaline expended, he was desperate for sleep. His head, beset by tortured thoughts, was pounding like a drum, But when soothing sleep descended, Dumpty dreamed of things to come. He dreamed that Democrats would pass Impeachment Number Two For inciting insurrection and a plotted palace coup; That a handful of Republicans would fearlessly stand by them, But that Dumpty, once acquitted, would completely crucify them;