-taking off Donald Trump’s clothes-

 with an apologetic nod to Billy Collins and Emily Dickinson 

first, there’s the full length mirror to adjust.

It has to be tilted in a way that reflects

his shoeshine and the top of his fool's gold head.

ask him to take one step backward.

maybe another one. just one more.

take a stance behind him grabbing the lapels

at his suit jacket.

It’s lighter than you’ve imagined.

nice material. expensive.

let it descend naturally from the long-sleeved arms.

you’ll notice a slight swish against the silken

sleeves of the shirt as it falls expensively.

this is not your father’s shirt,

not even from behind the plywood lectern at the semiformal testimonial.

funny, how Donald Trump exaggerates his posture

during this de-jacketing procedure; how the head swivels

upward from the neck elasticizing the jowls.

the weak mouth bends downward like the strand of a worm.

you might wonder what it is he sees in there.

unloosen the knot of the bright red necktie.

the skin there wobbles like the wattle of a turkey.

pull the red necktie over his head preserving the knot.

be careful!

one flip-top to the back of his hair and it’s curtains.

overcome your curiosity.

work quickly now. 

unbutton the shirt, slipping it across his shoulders.

(there are long, grey hairs matted there)

tug the shirt downward passing the upper arms.

there’s a bit of a struggle here.

loosen the belt.

unbutton the button.

un-zip the zipper.

tug the trousers downward avoiding the ass as best you can.
let the waistline fall below the kneecaps.

that’s far enough.

you can step back, now.

it's only the cruel hand of God makes him naked.