The Hoax

by Leonore Hildebrandt

The hoax likes cramped quarters.
It knows no limits, it does not fuck around,
and it won’t go away.

The hoax is ready to see you now.

It’s unsurpassed at deceiving itself about its own merits.
About its talents. How it can swing a rope
to land around your neck — amazing.

It borrows things it won’t ever return.

It never runs out of ammunition.
The hoax has a problem with meddling
and pricks up its ears when other hoaxes are around.

It hates being called un–American.

The hoax has no shame —
accused of being a super–spreader,
it calls for a meeting just to complain.

The hoax puffs out its chest

and explains the extraordinary event
with an equally extraordinary tale.
There is no escaping its voice — it won’t relent,

proclaiming the truths of the day.