The Last Sonnet of 2023

The last sonnet of twenty twenty-three
Reports a full year liveried in sin,
A bad society made not of tin
But something even flimsier: a bee
That bumbles and won’t fly, a destiny
Made evident behind a wicked grin.
We don’t complain about the state we’re in;
We won’t look — there’s no other road to see.

Now, understand me, I’m not crying, Look!
Move on: avoidance makes a lot of sense,
If following the news just makes you tense,
Remembering this villain and that crook.
Maybe we’ll read about it in some book,
Published somewhere, ages and ages hence.