America dies in broad daylight on Pennsylvania Avenue. Cherry-tree red concrete, baby blue skies. I lay on the hot pavement next to her. I press the bridge of her nose into the crook of my neck, my palm to her beating chest as it slows. I kiss the top of her head.
“You bitch. You had so much potential.” I run my fingers through her hair.
She is still so beautiful to me.
America dies by guillotine in the public square. America dies coated in tar-black oil on the Gulf. America dies in a migrant concentration camp, fenced in and shackled like a dog. America dies on white tiles in a classroom at the hands of an automated assault-rifle in Uvalde, Parkland, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, Santa Fe, Columbine, FSU, in, in, in, in, in, in, in, in, in, in, in, in,
iiin.
America dies quietly in her sleep. She is helpless to the sickness. She is outnumbered. She is mute. She is corrupted from the inside out. She bends and bows like a tree creaking under the weight of moss. Have you ever wished for death? Have you ever been used? America,
I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Does America go to Heaven?
America dies a slow death on the main stage.
I’m front row, heart in my throat. “They want your body, baby,” I whisper to her, tears welling in my eyes. She smiles gently at me as if to say “Oh, honey. I already know.” Neither of us know how to stop what’s coming.
They burst in the back door. She knows, as well as I do, how this ends. She looks to the audience, half wide-eyed and terrified. We’re begging for a wink. No such sign comes.
❤️❤️❤️
💔🫶