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,�