The Votive Angel by Moira Wairama

Thinking it’s the delivery pizza,


he opens the door

to The Votive Angel,

arrayed in slogan-splattered silks,

carrying her sword-sharp pen.

Silently she strides past him,

her silver boots crunching empty beer cans.

“Apathetics,”
she roars to the house at large,

“Arise and vote.”



The woman in the kitchen stirring soup looks up,

“Who for, dear?” she inquires amiably.

“Think,”