The Wake

We voted in the van
apple orchard, corn maze, or
petting zoo first?
Petting zoo first.

I sprinted ahead of my sister
toward an aluminum gate and a dented
garbage can, but instead of the glassy gloss
of horsehair, a yellow jacket reached me first.

Me first? My finger pricked
by the needle of that buzzing spindle-wheel.

And then onto the corn maze,
my sister in the lead and me behind
my extended hand humming with pain?
Past the moan of dried corn husks.

And all in-between I remember only
my hand and myself, hating democracy.