©2016 by Deborah Kahan Kolb. Proudly created with Wix.com

Election Day

November 8, 2016


This poem was published in The New Verse News:


Spectrum: November 8, 2016


The day the red-ones drew the curtains and chose the orange-one

to mind the white oval that had embraced the black-one

nearly three thousand days --- that day


was the day the blue-ones formed

a veined parenthesis to contain the pulsing mass

of the red-ones, spilling sideways,


was the day the red-ones and the blue-ones

never turned to purple and the green-ones

stayed scattered, shoots pushing up to be counted, 


was the day the brown-ones huddled and burst, and

waited for the white-ones, the eye-holed pointed ones,

to bear a burning broken cross, its twisted arms akimbo,


was the day the pink-ones, like the blue-one who

missed her grip at the finish, snatched steel from

between their legs and bound themselves each to each,


was the day the tan-ones veiled themselves

into invisibility,


was the day the yellow-ones shifted, and strove

for the exits,


was the day the beige-ones bent double, and breathed

dios mio,


was the day the rainbows clung together, their colors melted

and shriven,


was the day a keening Hallelujah rose up from the teeming streets

and evanesced into the violet sky,


was the day I waited for the raging ones to bring a yellow star

for me.




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