Stars and Stripes: Registering Voters in the Travis County Jail
By Lauren Oertel
We see stars in their eyes—the legal technicality
allows them to imagine voting for the first time.
Then the stars fade
like the overwashed
thick stripes on their shirts.
Heavy doors buzz, razor wire-topped pathways
snake between buildings.
Guards mutter Make America Great Again
when they see our clipboards and registration forms.
It’s the shower shoes—thin, terracotta-colored,
plastic sandals, barely protected feet.
We might expect old glory to save us.
Save us from this man with scars on his face
that run not as deep as the ones on his heart.
Save us from that man whose injured hand
shakes as he signs his name.
Are they not here in the name of my protection?
Back out to face the wall, arms up, legs spread,
brace for the unwelcome hands. Back into cells.
Lauren Oertel is a community organizer and passionate supporter of authors, books, writing communities, and local bookstores. Her work has been published in The Ravens Perch, Evening Street Review, Steam Ticket, The Bluebird Word, The Sun Magazine, and more. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her partner Orlando and their tuxedo cat Apollonia.
Photo credit DonkeyHotey via a Creative Commons license.
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