I hear about all the things he does,

But what can I do?

Signs,

Bumper stickers,

Voices,

Celebrate the end.

For democracy, 

Our country, 

Ukraine, 

the LGBTQIA2+ community,

192o days

Until the next election

Each day a struggle

1920 days of living

In this place

How many laws and bills can be made

In this place

How many people can get hurt

How many people will cry

What do I do,  

as a black woman, 

when they get control?   

When the consequences 

don't matter anymore? 

When I watch my people 

get bullied, 

a lesbian couple on my bus home from school 

a man in a punk battle jacket on the street 

my mother's female CEO group chat blowing up 

four of my teachers taking the following day off 

Repair the world, 

pull off the patterned papers. 

Leave the walls all bare and empty, 

no toll, free entry. 

I'm scared.

I can't believe we're here

Again.

I can't believe this is reality

Again.

Four years

They say.

It's only four years.

But it's four years

Of a living hell for me.

They laugh

I mean what do you even say? I feel like I can't trust my fellow Americans. I'm walking down the street, looking at people. Wondering "did  you vote for the man who wants to take away human rights? MY rights?" How could evil win?

There’s a spider in the shower,

It showed up there today,

It’s in the corner

Where wallpaper meets wallpaper meets wallpaper

Driving down dirt roads

Ten miles per hour over the speed limit

Oops

Slowing down

Tapping my foot to my new depression playlist 

Tears

I find myself both fearful and mad

At the outcome that happened on November 5.

I find myself wanting to curl into a ball and hide from it all for four years.

But I can’t.

When the echoes of voices have softened their sound,
And the campaign signs come down from the ground,
We’re left in the quiet, in the soft light of dawn,
To mend what is fractured, to carry on.