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Does the scoreboard, the game, start at aught-aught?
Opponents rally for victories sought,
While the haves have scored, the rest tally naught.
A zero-sum game over which we are wrought?
They rouse their fans—heroes—in battles fought.
Their inane roars, with meaning hardly fraught.
By gaudy display much notice they’ve brought.
Contempt, our feeling after the onslaught.
Rah! Rah! The pols are seeking to be bought.
About life’s virtues they ought to be taught.
Few pundits, though, seem the least bit distraught
Over our smug oligarchs’ lack of thought.
As this game of thrones gets hotter and taut,
All species decline, the web of life, caught.
Edmund Weisberg is the senior science writer in Radiology at Johns Hopkins University. His essays appear in Impakter Magazine, Voices in Bioethics, and the Rutgers Journal of Bioethics, and his poetry, in Literary Yard and Down in the Dirt Magazine. He also authored the children’s picture book While You’re at School.