Wake up to vote – don’t think
your voice is among those that are
ignored. Today I rose with power and
You with authority. In a heated, heavy
morning brushed with
scenes from last night’s gin-based
depravity, I remember when
the streets were ransacked
in polite revolution
They have no election choices, none
despite the memory of split lips
and the blood that brokered division between
their old and young – still none
so vote. On paper all those
tiny crosses are the same, small
but influential – in their strokes and shadows
you’ve heard of martyrs. Women. Horses.
Brown and black faces
and though the men and women
on the paper are flimsy
stick figures cut from your maps of home, not mine
– I know my rights.
Know yours too.