The night is colder since the rain
The light is dimmer than expected
Wet leaves clinging to the window-pane
Inside the 1950s house
A madman hunting Mystery
Wonders if the world will question him
Or pass him by completely
The girl's red ball was tucked inside
The garden's crooked arms' embrace
Flecked by rivulets at noon
Like teardrops drowning in a face
Mother is often out, about
Gas stations dry, so many
Switching their accounts
To Walmart back from JC Penny
Small feet running, light and swift
Apollo is a girl who sings
But there's too much sugar all around
And corn in everything
Election ads are revving up
On the screens indoors
Contesting in the living room
Wrestling on the bedroom floor
Two phone lines are humming hard
Quick multitudes of bees
The mail box is flooding, someone
Voted in the primaries
Pale heat, mosquitos and the fear
Of rain, the fever rising
On air, the rush of more than blood
The whitening of teeth and hair
Obama and adrenalin, the hopefulness
And lies. Truth a prisoner at best
Of the fight for power
With arms folded on its chest
The Jewish African US girl
Born upon the day
Of the Great Stolen Election
Rushes with her ball to play
The summer fever fades to fall
She bounces the red ball
Until the cool of voting day
Her eighth birthday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem