England, July 2016
Donald J. Trump just promised to build a wall across America
Casting a long shadow
And stepping into a deep void
To un-mend true love.
A ripple across the land of star-crossed lovers becomes a wave at Border Control,
Where Trump in his Duke of Athens crown rolls out bad news:
His wall, his country, his living space besieged by Old World plinths,
Clocks that cannot be fixed, marble halls ─ lovers need not apply.
Yet the alien child he does not rate cannot be unborn,
Bettering all that Trump makes sweet with skill:
Cluster bombs, lines drawn in sand, a shit storm.
Through a wall, WH Auden still loves Erika Mann.
Peggy Guggenheim still loves Max Ernst.
Kerouac still debauches Mexico.
Pyramus and Thisbe still roars.
Take heed, America,
The human race will survive Donald Trump’s wall ─
But walls make new worlds old.