November 6, 2024
They tell you to brace for the apocalypse,
but never the morning after.
So I wash my hair and rush to work
because the rich man’s machine doesn’t stop for disaster.
I pass grim-faced professors of political science
and grown women whispering of impending violence
and crestfallen students seeking each other’s guidance
and I fear I may drown in this deathly silence.
But tonight, I ignore my aching temple
and command my knees not to tremble
and call this council to assemble
because this community still needs a leader to believe in
who stands serenely in her sapphire-blue coat and sorority letters
who defies despair with reckless joy and swears it will get better
with steady hands outstretched to hold all
the mourning after
