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      November 11, 2018Poem Written in Stolen Polling Place PenJames D’Agostino

      Ever watch a sunset against a headstone
      what kind civil war what kind well I’ll tell
       
      but how many words between orange
      and red had I better come up with? That
       
      one’s second-degree jelly bean. That ain’t
      fireflies it’s headlights I’ve got my back to
       
      on the headstone I face. Hey, down here
      if you got a belly button you got half
       
      a chance but the sherbet sure burns hotter
      the shallower it gets. Told you you’d need
       
      more reds before bed. Col. Andrew Porter,
      I should probably apologize for my tail
       
      bone ass cheek imprint I left in your soft
      dirt there. Beware. Though I could see
       
      why you like the place. All that sky all day.
      The heavens you called it. Comes down
       
      to a little bit of blood at the end.

      from Poets Respond

      James D’Agostino

      “I had been talking with my friend Monica about the moment she realized Trump wasn’t going to be impeached. For her it was watching a square dance pour its form across our town’s Moose Lodge dance floor. For me it was when half my students (college juniors) told me they were too busy to vote. I cancelled class on election day to free a few up. Leaving the polling place I wandered out to our town cemetery and realized I’d pocketed the pen I voted with.”