(The Fourth is a grand holiday. It’s my sister’s birthday. We live in a truly great country where we are mostly safe and enjoy opportunities rare in the big picture. Most often, I am proud to be American. But… –jrs)
Who wants to remember:
the stench of the dead,
smoking bushes, skeletons
festooned with body pieces,
Dali meets Bosch;
this body’s for you.
Who can forget:
our most uncivil war,
atoms and flash burns blinding a generation;
a minuteman, cocked hat askew,
plays big cop on the corner of World and Peace;
the freedom to revel in politically correct enmity.
We celebrate a history of war:
mimicry of small arms and cannon,
young eyes alight with power,
smoke and flame in the streets,
living on old glory.