A poem for election day

Is this how
The Roman charioteers
Felt when straddling two horses?
Straining towards separate paths
Dancing on the edge of
Disaster

At least
The Romans held
The reins in their own two hands
We steer while yoked to madness
On that at least we
Can agree

We hover
On the future’s
Precipice

Holding
Our
Breaths

Photo by Anastasiia Krutota on Unsplash