POLITICAL Poem: 2024 Election Roundeau, by Candice M. Kelsey

By the time you read this poem, the election will be decided,
the ballots counted, balloons dropped, our country still divided.
Commercial fishers lift their unwilling catch from the sea;
like cruel pendants, plastic nets choke cool night’s neck, but we
ignore the gore on deck. What can’t be stopped is conceded.

To StarKist, bycatch, Filet-O- and over-fishing, we are blinded;
the stink of slaughter eludes us. What can we do but abide it?
Perhaps the good candidate won; perhaps he did again. Either way,
when you read this poem, the election will have been decided.

North of Sicily, a sperm whale and illegal drift nets collided;
divers failed, couldn’t cut her free. Further into the deep she glided.
Maybe voter suppression was thwarted; the winner, Democracy—
maybe not. Chances are, we remain cowards unmoved by cruelty.
Whether drowning and defeated, or released into the sea united:
Dear Reader of this poem, the next election is not yet decided.

Author: poetryfest

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