Over there with the piles of dog poop and pumpkins
are the wriggling, gnawing MAGA maggots;
the Innkeeper's own, who ought to be called Trumpkins---
haters of emigrants, poets, poor people and faggots.
Starward
Author's Notes/Comments:
The last word of the last line is a slur I do not use in ordinary conversation, having been verbally bullied with it during high school. I include it here because it is used too often by the very people this poem describes.