Election
for P.
I.
This rainy morning spent with you enwraps
and warms me by the window, braced for work,
as September’s downpour augurs summer’s end,
a summer in which we made each other legally
one, and live here—together softly and strong—
a conjoining we have chosen and called it home.
II.
I vote because I love my life and those held dear,
aware that greed’s vice-grip is present and prepared
to claim our private world as legally their own
for use in gain. Each private world exists of course
at the same crossroads with the public sphere, and so
ideas of justice are born from private mirrors.
III.
The ancient war god Mars is smiling above, aloof,
and Venus, that wily love, lounges on cloud-puffs,
each awaiting who next will be summoned to bring
their blessings to the massive world.
Poem by Gregg Mosson. Gregg Mosson is the author of Season of Flowers and Dust, and an editor of this blog.
