All of us know
your vote is not secret.
It’s seen everywhere you go
without apology or regret,
in the towers of steel and glass
that dome our nation transactional,
in the daily grind and farce
we pretend is just exceptional,
in the old man, foot of block
lying lifeless, quiet and still
we close our eyes to the rot
no matter how many we kill
with the crosses we make in boxes
both paper and wooden too.
Life’s just great, why tempt fate?
Until it happens to me, and you
will go on ticking boxes.