The Night of Trump

I held my heart,
my breath,
my iPad.

I looked through the screen
like an agonising wizard
who casts
his eyes
on the hidden
guts
of a crystal
ball.

How many emotions,
how much attention,
could the map
of the States
withstand?

Never,
never
red and blue,
the numbers of colleges,
the random borders
of arbitrary plots
meant to me
what they meant that night:

an evil that no soul
will ever forgive,
a twilight that our dawn
will have to redeem.

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