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