At Today’s Town Meeting

by Gary Margolis

Wouldn’t mind if you voted me in.
As your first constable again.
No real duties I know of.
Not like the old days.
When you’d have to buggy

the ballots to the state capital.
Stop overnight in a tavern.
Flash your badge for a drink.
A good omen from any of the women.
These days there’s nothing better

you’re commissioned to do.
Than stand at the back
at town meeting. Look over
the crowd of voters. Ready to
lead anyone to the door

who seems to get rowdy.
The last of my official duties.
Having left my horse hobbled
to a railing. Given up any power
I had. The state assigned me.

To keep order in my town
of Cornwall, Vermont.
To call the game warden
if a dog looks rabid. When
a flock breaks out of its pasture.

Inform my neighbor, appointed
fence viewer, if there’s a dispute
between neighbors. Needing
a neighborly opinion.
Speak to our weigher of coal.

As if there was still coal left
to be delivered. Chuted into
somebody’s cellar. And miscounted.
Assist one of our elected library
trustees. If she has to knock on

a door. Retrieve an overdue book.
The History of Cornwall, 1850.
By the looks of it, its readers passed on.
Family to family.
Not worrying about the law

of returns.
If whoever the constable is
would arrive at their door.
Appointed or elected.
The most heavily debated issue

at today’s town meeting.
Whether to appoint or elect a citizen
to one of these coveted positions.
Whether to cast votes for a herd’s
democracy.