The Thunberg Look — a sonnet

The way she looked at Trump that day
When at the Summit him she spied,
Would have made an eagle drop its prey
Or any kind of predator turn aside.
The portly ass could not have known
That she was waiting for him, all eyes,
To dissect him to the marrow bone,
His ignorance of her ambush, no surprise.
But I saw how she assayed him.
That Thunberg Look could kill!
She hooked him and she filleted him
And she slapped him on the grill.
Twas like a lucid dream I revisit now and then
To refresh my own intolerance of predatory men.