Election Week
Prose poetry of anxious proportions
And how are you coping? Are you stimming and spinning — ruminations of long gone conversations — are you ordering late-night — a click for next-day delivery
for the bubble wrap, a satisfied snapping — do you pop each one solo, or are you more of the type to ring out the plastic like a sopping wet towel? Do you need to vacuum and scrub the same spot in your spirit?
How is your calendar? Time-filling on purpose — double-booking is better than nothing to do, no one to see — but others’ lives through a window and their giant screens tuned to the same things, the same things, the same things.
Are you awake at 3:30? Can you fall back asleep to the incessant misuse of our attention? How many pills does it take to skip this week’s news? Do you revisit old habits and revert to tantrums when nails are bitten down to their quicks — now, what will you use to satisfy the itch?
Crochet the whole house so you’ll finally feel cozy. Gamble a little, a lot, and never again. Take up new projects, then nap from the exhaustion of just planning the thing.
Helpless and awake, tired and hungry, aging from mistakes you knew you were making. Did you vote? Did you vote? Are we really alone?
Samantha Lazar, Election Week, United States, 2024
