I live in a house on a block in a town
where your name takes shape on my neighbors’ front lawns
from heat wave to windstorm. They stake Cathy in the grass
until you win, again, the right to represent us.
You are a good example, Cathy.
Reasonable with your opponents.
So firm and respectful, rage-free
and logical as a man,
no nun but no sexpot either,
sex not being the substance of this address,
sex being more a material you and I were cut from
without prior consultation.
Like a large warm meal you are, Cathy.
Like hot chocolate. Powerful too—
black tea scalded and forgotten
into tannic strength.
Of course it is silly to say we share
a source or tribe,
you with your vagina and I with mine.
Us white ladies.
And it’s winter, almost.
As the year dies,
and you contemplate a new cycle
of intercession with government on my behalf,
I hope we can conference re: our differences.
Cathy, I’m a person, you’re a person.
It’s like we’ve met before.