I wanted to write a poem about a carnival, but the image of Wisconsin voters during the pandemic can’t leave me. So, I took a line from a poetry bot (the first line) and wrote this.
Someone will remember us
like a stranded voice
pleading out against the roar
of a January blizzard.
With mere masks
and half-assed hand wipes
we came.
Cattle penned at the slaughterhouse.
And cast our votes.
Against the odds . . .
Contrary to reason . . .
Fingers crossed . . .
Our feeble act
of freedom.
Kathleen A. Dorholt
NaPoWriMo 2020
Day 9
4/9/2020
A Little Lift of Lemon Drops! 