Musth Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

It’s that time of year
When they come out with nothing to fear
Acting as if they are “king of the hill”
Knowing not the way to pass a bill.

In their passion for gratification (some seek sex) while in season
Abandoning all hope or semblance of reason
As they uproot the trees and lay bare the earth
A peculiar way of measuring worth.

It’s said a secretion from a gland near their eyes
Blinds them, causing them to emit odor, attracting flies
But it’s really just the surge of hormones in play
That causes them to act this way.

And they prance around
Seeking an opposite to be compromised if found
One that is willing, as they say
“To take a roll in the legislative hay.”

Alas, there is no old one here,
One that is the “adult in the room” to hear
For all have abandoned their learned ways
And are locked in a convoluted maze.

Yoked together in two party groups
Acting as if it really doesn’t matter which way they took
They’re like elephants (and asses too) chained to a stump
Where spirits, soon to be broke, never knowing which end’s up.

Needing a sage one to call down
“Enough, enough, you petty clown(s) .”
But in their Rut, they’re all excited
As if they can move mountains, united.

Soon they’ll recover and quietly go away
Having destroyed crops, leaving a swath of decay.
What they’ve created will take years to recover
As voters will soon discover.

(Rogue elephants (and asses too) can be of either sex or of no sex what-so-ever.)

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