1. The Voters Congregate
And when the town
emerges from its wooden
islands, its front doors
locked and boat cars
broaching roads, it must be
a Tuesday. The rush
starts, and all the people
wade their way to city hall,
heads political. The incumbent
or the new whale, who
promises hope. Hook, line,
sinker: heart golden.
Or so they say. The people
will sink their weight
in ballots, in dreams
of more solid ground.
They swear they’ve eaten
the worst they can eat.
How much to throw back,
how much to keep?