At the Polling Place

My name is always first
above my husband's
first initial P
before first initial R
Even though I always forget which district
I'm in, the ladies at the tables are nice
They turn the pages of the big spiral bound notebook
to our signatures. There is my name
and Richard's, but above both of ours
for the first time is another.
I wonder, whose?

It is our daughter's,
aged eighteen, who had registered
to vote, but never got to because she died.
What would you do? I came to vote
for president, but I stood there and I cried.