Patriot
       

Mostly Americans, my friends are getting married
Again so I forswear the birds this time.
But now I want a house along Blue Ribbon Avenue,
Where sloths are elastic because they feel safe.
Standing in one room they gauge the bed in another room.
Everyone's wiser than me: Yeah, I get it.
Still, down the long hall they did not walk.
So sing along the drive: This is America
Irreplaceable and yet
Unnecessary and yet loved.
Meanwhile, Fate is a dry in Texas.
Far away those homes next to homes of men, yelling.
Season of black powder, of wrenches rusting in the rain.
But is it true, that sign along the Arkansas
Highway: I love and miss you.
But is this America, still debating
Whether as a woman, whether I am worth.
Our roads, imported from Spain.
Our telephone call, nearing ancient.
Within a room constructed of shut doors he reads
Pages back to her, his back to her.
Lines disintegrate. It is ever so late.
After she voted, she took her body, she took it back home.

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Copyright © 2015 Laurie Saurborn Young All rights reserved
from Industry of Brief Distraction
saturnalia books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission