Near dusk, the vote is called.
So one hand rises, then another
in the pine-planked room of men and women,
as the little children suck their thumbs.
There is broad assent
among the many seated in the pews,
in balconies, on window ledges, standing at the back.
In shadow, there are those who disagree,
who hunch in anger, clutch their elbows,
tip their heads away from what was said.
A few of them will never leave this hall
until the darkness, which has just begun,
grows inside out,
and one by one they move into the night
with empty pockets, with a granite heart.