Member-only story
November 6: In and Out of Consciousness
A poem written at an ungodly hour
I woke up wordless and waiting
For the punchline
For the dream — I’d clutched for what felt like a decade — to come true.
For a pulse, a swelling thrum of togetherness,
For proof of humanity and hands across borders
For a sign of intelligent life
It has been a decade, give and take. And now —
I woke up, again, to squint my eyes at the blue box from the void, to read that this is where we want to be, it was no mistake.
they shaded ovals gleefully
As some women folded into themselves as they saw the name of their nightmare–his wandering hands– on the ballot, and everywhere else
As if slinking across them with every hoot and hurrah
And it won’t stop today. It will only grow. Because to live here is to know we will kiss the feet of a man who’s shown a devilish past claiming to be Christ
before we ever allow a competent, unwavering woman to dare challenge him.
Here, she learns every day that she always deserves to be burned
