Election Week

Ashley Wagner

At a cabin in Starlight Lake, Pennsylvania

I.

I have no country
but this: mismatched
glasses aloft
and full of things
to make with the forgetting,
already. In the quiet dawn,
we stuffed our sweater pockets
with skipping rocks
and bird spawn. Now,
under the cover of dusk,
we bare the strings
of fangs in our mouths,
all the eyes like moons
in the firelight.

II.

Months from now, rioters
draped in firearms and fascist
dreams will demand their fellow
countrymen’s voices
be hushed. The incident
will be brushed aside,
burned away like woodchips
for a haven of light. The corner store
down the street
will bar its doors
as if plywood is enough
to save our lives.

Author Bio: Ashley Wagner is a queer writer, reader, and roller-skater living in Baltimore. She is the poetry editor for Ligeia Magazine, and her work has appeared in Door is a Jar, Salamander, Up the Staircase Quarterly, and Grub Street.

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