Almost Extinct

Trotsky is living in my garden shed,
a long trip from Mexico to Altrincham,
a refuge from ice picks, machine guns,
the persecution of Stalinists.

Trotsky is pleased that Stalin is dead.
The Miraculous Georgian was a pygmy, he says,
the murderer of Bolshevism and World Revolution.
Putin’s learnt a lot from him, he says.

Trotsky is living in my garden shed,
a prophet whose time has not yet come.
He harangues the snails and worker slugs
and tell them to prepare, prepare, prepare.

Trotsky is pleased that I talk to him;
we’re a politburo of two on plastic chairs,
discussing enemies that still exist
in our hearts and heads and somewhere.

Trotsky is living in my garden shed,
the last of the prophets, too old to breed.
He won’t yet reveal that he’s alive.
I lock the door, hold on to the key.

1 thought on “Almost Extinct

  1. Diana Sanders

    I like the repetition and rhythm of the stanzas and the lines – he harangues the snails and worker slugs – we’re a politburo of two on plastic chairs –

    Perhaps 2nd stanza is a little clunky – repetition of he says and murderer of Bolshevism and World Revolution.

    The more I read it the more I love it.

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