On Voting Day

I have seen our constant arc

curled up from its underside

Nothing else is similarly placed

as a call to us
…/

I have seen
our constant arc
curled up
from its underside
Nothing else serves
as a call to us
We fight ourselves
Our only enemy
is our old master
Look up at our fay
of refracted blues
that backlit show
yet to be owned
It is always equal
over others’ homes

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