I have forgotten the tall police officer
at my front door we have arrested
your husband squad cars idling in the driveway my dog
struggling at my feet     chest constricting     mind on fire
I don’t remember pleading he’s given his life
for this town or the sarcastic a city commissioner
should know not to steal and destroy city property
I have no memory of the officer admitting he planted
the Trump sign on our property to get fingerprints I don’t recall
asking to speak to my husband or being told
he’d been read his rights and taken to jail I remember nothing
of that long afternoon dialing     re-dialing     his number     calling
the Chief of Police     waiting     for no response     pacing     re-tracing
the officer’s words     thinking how much tomorrow’s election
had us both on edge     worrying how we’d get everything done
I have blocked out the image in my mind
of my husband in a cell     his face behind bars I cannot evoke
his muffled please bring a jacket     the emotion of seeing him
pulling him close hearing about four hours on a cold steel bench
in dirt-stained tee shirt     no phone     no keys     no wallet     finger prints
handcuffs     terse magistrate on Zoom     reading charges and warning
500 feet from the victim no contact with any campaign signs
I have forgotten the relief of being together in our kitchen
talking     assuring him I would work at the election
since he was now banned     I don’t recollect
when the phone began to ring     the press release came out
the mug shot on the evening news     or how many people
sent support     offered help     told him they knew who he was
how much he had given I can not remember
how my husband worked for two years as president
of a city non profit or when its board forced him to resign
how long it was before he retained an attorney or why it took
four months before charges were dismissed
his record cleared     I have no memory of my husband going
downtown the morning of the arrest     before dawn
lugging buckets and spades and potting soil planting
winter pansies and dusty millers in flower boxes
on Wilmington Avenue for five hours then coming home
and loading the car with tables and chairs and campaign signs
for his 6 AM shift at the polling station the next day and I certainly
don’t remember why he continues to plant and replant
to water and weed and fertilize flowers for this city