There’s an eagle in sky when I hear the word, election
He flaps his wings and thrusts up through blue
She’s aloft on the voices of many; forget the dove
No laurel leaf, just fiery leaflets taloned, dropped.
A man is hunched over a computer screen; he plans
To unrig anything that happens this November with a gun
A woman is voting for the last time today; her husband
over her shoulder, he glowers; she does as she’s told.
Piles of ballots in dumpsters “fake news” or there’s
The sins of the son and the tax returns, too
Lines for hours in the places they’ve chosen
Open bubbles to fill, parents to find, a judge to seat.
A pickup truck at the light yesterday, flags flying
He rolled down his window asked me if I were a man
Or a woman; I pretended to scoff, to not understand
My fear is sharp and alive in my throat.