Anticipation

We’re hoping there are fighting words, a phrase
Or two to turn a table in the fight
To either keep or bring the country right
In all its many foolish, varied ways
To what it should or what it used to be.
Debating’s only fun if there is blood,
If interrupting, dragging through the mud,
Or jeering brings the possibility
Of utter and calamitous defeat.
We’re racing for not only to redeem
The remnant of the nation, or the gleam
Of hope that we’re achieving, but to beat
The living, breathing snot out of the one
Who’s standing twixt the target and the gun.