Pascale Jarvis
- Jun 14, 2022
- 1 min read

Psalm for the Eve of Election Day

Don’t let the

rest of us

become white crosses

decorating your lawn.

Our bodies are not meant to stay

whole—

we are steeple-top weathervane,

attune to what’s becoming.

We are gaze in the eye of

some Lord

[call her Hurricane]

We are immune to fright,

even on a night like this, tonight.

I dare you to Name us Dead.

I dare you to christen us Erased.

Our day lives beyond the horizon;

what’s the state of your sun now?

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