America was born mulatto, stillborn
But for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,
Aphorisms written in blood with hands trembling,
Terrified of the dark engine that drove
In my garden I have sought to wrest from nature
what’s untamable in both of us.
What grows here, grows because I have knelt
in the dirt, have spread seeds, have weeded and pruned.
America, how I thought I knew thee well!
Land of the West, of golden gleaming hope,
Of the People’s answer to Dante’s hell;
We who with freedom and slavery cope.
The fatal flaw is clear to those who look
(But o, we did not wish to look!):
To proclaim one thing but do another,
To promise riches and then plunder
The promise with a smile and a look
My heart has grown docile, less inclined
to thrash about, to strain at the leash.
Maybe that’s the way it goes: We come
into the world like lava, we burn and blaze
and flow, and then cool into something solid
I am a Jew.
I have been a ship turned away
To face the cold spray
Of a cloudy ocean, fetid train,
Windowless chamber full of gas.
In polite society we hold doors open,
Say thanks and please, wear crisp
Suits when we drop bombs.
The pen is mightier than the sword—but not today.
When bombs explode, words turn to shrapnel
Like a lover’s demands left to the dead to obey,
A kiss carried off in death’s putrid satchel.
The cold light of winter filters through dusty windows,
Mixes with the buzzing of fluorescent lights.
I hear the slow shuffle of frayed jackets rustling,
Half-broken chairs straining under the weight
Of half-broken men and women and children, chipped
Tabletops holding like Atlas a world of Styrofoam
Cups and plates, plastic forks and knives,
Warm meals consumed by frigid bodies, minds, souls.
The words are clear, o so clear!
Patriotism blaring from a bullhorn,
Justice promised in steel blindly shaped.
“The threat, the response,
The rule of law…” the President drones,
And the people listen, how they listen!
To his faultless monotone.