He feigns strength,
gilds his world golden.
His name. His visage. His way.
Trumpian mythology
built lie by lie, threat by threat.
Its depth unimaginable,
bottomless pit of greed, racism.
So self-consumed is he,
blind to his wax wings melting.
Truth’s flame is invincible
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De asks us to include the word “myth” or a form of the word in a poem of exactly 44 words sans title.
Reference is made to mythology’s Icarus whose wings were made of wax…which led to his demise when he flew too close to the sun.
lillian the home poet 
Nicely done, Lill! I can’t wait to see the fall of that awful man.
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That rotting, melting pumpkin adds even more visual power to this poem, Lill.
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Blinded to his melting wings! Very well done, Lillian. We were thinking along the same lines on this one!
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If only he were a myth.
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