An open apology for everyone fed doughnuts, democracy,
and pints of their own blood.

They opened the box of doughnuts for
us at the polling booth-- curly-hair
smiled-- told us to raise our voices louder
louder louder louder
with the chocolate glazed and powered
truck tires revving down our throats
told us how sweet it was to live in 
a democracy with boxes of doughnuts
to let us know that our vote was 
worth something sugary-- 
put voting stickers over our eyes
and spun us around three times--
pin the tail on the King
because there was only ever-- 
Kings for us to vote for--
Kings and royal rape-collectors--
our parking violations for these vaginas 
They
laughed and told us vaginas 
look like 
Doughnuts-- like cream Boston 
like filled jelly gypsies--
Giggled about all the ways boy-kings
invent to eat our ballot bodies--
and when we asked if
they heard what we were saying with all
the doughnuts in our throats
they told
us to proceed
Proceed to the polling booth-- the
throne-- blood pressure cuffs around
each arm-- electric chair style--
take another doughnut and this time
measure out the worth of your
organs against the blink of voting
booth lights--our pulse--
our filled jelly blood-- they didn't tell 
us that it would take needles--
didn't tell us that we would
sit there and slide democracy into
our veins-- cold and chocolate-glazed
and searching for your cream Boston
for your rape joke grins--
Isn't voting funny and cute
like powered doughnuts and knees
and rape?
We couldn't see the needles with
the stickers on our eyes-- 
Flinched and wince:
I vote-- I vote-- I vote
I vote blind and doughnut tongued:
How many pints did they take?
I didn't see-- I couldn't keep
track between the doughnuts they
fed us one after the other
told us we could ever rise above
misogyny
above glass ceilings where
we see our reflection--
the beeping of the booth--
did they watch?
Did they peak behind the curtains?
Would it have mattered? 
Did we even vote or did they just
use us for blood?
I'm O negative and AB positive
that democracy was another doughnut--
and empty hole--
This is my apology for us. I'm sorry
for the doughnuts they fed you--
fed us-- 
This is my apology for 
pinning the tail on another
King 
This is my apology for what we thought
was democracy and was really just
another harvest-- another transfusion--
Let's eat doughnuts and take
back our ballot bodies-- 
Walk out of the polls with
a back pack of doughnuts as reparations--
hold our blood in our hands--
This is the tax collection for
our identities.
This is our apology. 
I'm sorry I put all of my
queer-- rape surviving-- anorexic--
blood raptured-- poetry transfused--
cat-called-- boy-groped-- vagina 
bearing body into a button.
I'm sorry that wasn't enough.
Eat doughnuts. Bleed jelly.
Collect our brothers pints 
in backpacks-- pull curtains 
over our closets and 
peel off the voting stickers
from our eyes.