|An American voting booth. Photo from the U at Buffalo (2009)|
Harried and hot, she finally entered
the voting booth and quickly pressed levers
for her choices. She paused before the last
lever that entered her free vote. How long
she had waited to arrive! Not just lines
today, but photo ID and proof of
residence, citizenship test and Eng-
lish classes after years of exile and
insecurity. She placed one tired hand
on the cold machine’s grey edge and she sighed,
inhaled and sighed again, a moment’s peace
and pride energizing her to move when
a voice penetrated her private space,
“Any problems, Ma’am?” spoken kindly
but urgently outside the closed curtains.
“No,” she replied. She pushed the last lever
registering her vote and opening
the curtains simultaneously. She
noticed the levers now in their upright
positions, turned tall and made her exit.
For my prompt
This morning I added haiku, making the poem into a haibun of sorts:
Stand and be counted
gestured the lake to the tree
then bend and kiss me.
All the world's our stage
and we will play fully
before we exit.
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2016 Susan L. Chast