The Top of the Greasy Pole

Atilla and Genghis Khan
Disputed each others' worth
As scourges of God and Man;
Of Heaven and Planet Earth.

Like Donald and You-Know-Her,
The orchid and snowflake pair:
First, she with the coat of fur
Then, he with the yellow hair.

Contending for power, each
Displayed what they thought showed strength:
Her voice like a rasping screech;
His tiny hands short on length.

With Tweedle-dum acting fierce
And Tweedle-dee looking grim,
Their twaddle no one can pierce.
Our "choices" are her or him?

The Huns and the Mongols thought
That plunder made so much sense
That always for loot they fought,
Then booty they would dispense.

So, too, in the U.S.A.
The greasy-pole climbers thrive.
They ask only, "Who will pay?"
And, "When will the bucks arrive?"

They might wear a dress or suit
And brandish a phone or pen,
But votes make the question moot.
The rooster won. Not the hen.

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2018