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Circus of politics

The magic word, saying sorry, to shift
the muddy ground. The final
curtain. Why a simple luminosity
will drape our pathetic lives
with an emotional cloak
to hide more flaws than
you’d ever admit.

Did you not think you own us
with your policies?
Did you think an engrossing
bowing of your head saves
the soggy socks of your arrogance?
Did you think back when
we were hurting and trivial?

The grandeur of your apology
hung in the air,
you the ring leader,
and your lions and bears
engross us with sudden
emotions, till the truth of our
becoming become as holey
as socks, singularly uninspired
in a brilliant circus.

Process notes: Last day of our hustings. Mistakes were made, said our political master. We will all make good. We will listen to you. We will make you forget. As if.