{"id":500,"date":"2020-10-20T18:44:08","date_gmt":"2020-10-20T22:44:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/?p=500"},"modified":"2021-04-29T21:05:28","modified_gmt":"2021-04-30T01:05:28","slug":"poem-the-dropbox-near-sunset","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/2020\/10\/20\/poem-the-dropbox-near-sunset\/","title":{"rendered":"Poem: The Dropbox Near Sunset"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>I walked an hour to the secure ballot dropbox and back, or thirty minutes each way. Here is a quick poem inspired by the walk. Enjoy, and be sure to vote if you are in the USA and able to do so!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">The Dropbox Near Sunset<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>A procession \u2014 beginning home,<br>my destination a box downtown<br>where slips of paper decide<br>who decides the fate of a nation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Around my feet the spent leaves<br>curled like bridal confetti<br>while above the green trees,<br>crowns dipped in autumnal fire,<br>bore witness to evening stillness<br>and the mellow light of day&#8217;s retreat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A route beginning among homes,<br>giving way to rush-hour streets<br>trickling with cars, masked dog-walkers,<br>young runners heaving bare-faced,<br>circles of young and old sitting<br>distanced in greenspaces or benches,<br>and finally the ocean of businesses<br>encircling the elmless city&#8217;s heart,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>ending at a box \u2014 much smaller<br>than the cavernous ballot-urn<br>my imagination had etched for me \u2014<br>while I circled to avoid two women<br>unmasked and chatting loudly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Take a photo of me!&#8221; one said<br>to the other as they traded cameras<br>and I pressed back towards sunset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Across the street upon a grate<br>lay a dead bird, head bent back,<br>a gentle breeze tugging chest-down<br>newly cold with halted breath,<br>perhaps a casualty of a window&#8217;s<br>illusion of space and escape,<br>an omen of unfounded hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Make a poem of me, <\/em>the moment said,<br>and my eyes drank deep of the sidewalk,<br>the hum of highway-bound cars,<br>a woman yelling out from her window<br>while music played below in the fancy<br>apartment buildings newly-minted downtown,<br>a surge of humans catching the last moments<br>before the sun descended and light fled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The moment passed, the envelope&#8217;s<br>texture and double-sealed firmness<br>passed on for the deciders, my mind turning<br>to Athene and the long road beyond<br>filled-in bubbles on a bright, firm sheet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u2709\ufe0f<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I walked an hour to the secure ballot dropbox and back, or thirty minutes each way. Here is a quick poem inspired by the walk. Enjoy, and be sure to vote if you are in the USA and able to do so! The Dropbox Near Sunset A procession \u2014 beginning home,my destination a box downtownwhere&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"The Dropbox Near Sunset\n\n(A quick poem about returning my absentee ballot.)","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[23,21],"class_list":["post-500","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-poem","tag-poetry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9qEhO-84","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":477,"url":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/2020\/08\/27\/skillbuilding-in-verse-2-second-hour-of-waking\/","url_meta":{"origin":500,"position":0},"title":"Skillbuilding in Verse #2: Second Hour of Waking","author":"kaye","date":"27 August 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"8 AM \u2014 a dullsky oozing through glass,storms forecast \u2014 a lullof stillness must pass, one more hollow hourbefore work should start \u2014rushing to shower,to speak prayers (by heart memorized, rootedand constitutedof tisane and sounds) \u2014while incense surroundsand each moment moveson a clock's fine grooves. 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The \"Read\u2026","rel":"","context":"In \"writing\"","block_context":{"text":"writing","link":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/tag\/writing\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=1050%2C600&ssl=1 3x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Screen-Shot-2021-02-07-at-9.08.41-PM.png?resize=1400%2C800&ssl=1 4x"},"classes":[]},{"id":399,"url":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/2019\/08\/16\/transmutation\/","url_meta":{"origin":500,"position":3},"title":"Transmutation","author":"kaye","date":"16 August 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"crush thesecertain flower petalsthe pulp redhot beneath your fingerssticky, sweet, spicywhat it touchesit changesdeepening gracewe will ascend likedoves into the heavenssee the downupon your skin,once red as sacrifice,now white as papercrush thesewings against thewindowpanesyour bed forgottenhands fadingmemoriesthis new shapecannot grasp On Twitter, Kaleidotrope (a specfic lit mag) gave a spam\u2026","rel":"","context":"In \"poem\"","block_context":{"text":"poem","link":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/tag\/poem\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":112,"url":"https:\/\/www.kayeboesme.com\/pangrammatike\/2018\/02\/03\/reflections-on-writing-in-2017\/","url_meta":{"origin":500,"position":4},"title":"Reflections on Writing in 2017","author":"kaye","date":"3 February 2018","format":false,"excerpt":"Writing-wise, 2017 was an interesting year. 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