poetry

light bulb / flame

light bulb / flame

when the caucus trainers
are younger than the caucus goers
so young, in fact, they’ve likely never voted,
the trainers ask the trained
what it will be like

but we don’t know –
we’re only familiar with the old-fashioned in-person kind
where Peter Lewis held up a sign
with our precinct number
and we all filed down the public school hallway
to our assigned classroom
then fit ourselves into other people’s desks
and raised our hands to vote now and then

we don’t know how to caucus in a Zoom window
how to vote via chat
but we do know how to be real together

so when one woman asks
what to say about the mayor’s stance on rebuilding after the fire
it’s not too surprising when the mayor suddenly appears
to answer us herself

poetry

To Our Mayor

To Our Mayor

We know your heart holds
a thousand holes
as ash settles on us all.

It would be fair if you felt the flames
one burden too many,
if you asked why this, why now?

Instead we see you on the tv
confident and grateful
patient and protective

ably leading us
away from the brink.

We see how you suffer for us –
the late nights and early mornings,
the thick binders, the endless weeds.

You’re our own Jacinda
and we love you.
You’re engineering us a future.
You’re saving us a home.