It’s Independence Day! and I found myself more cynical than natural. So here’s my reflection of that (which happens to be in the Epigram form I mentioned here):
Andrew Jackson reviews his map.
A cockroach limps, across the U.S., dragging its black ooze behind
like tears. Its wings twitch.
He skewers it with a pen
somewhere over Oklahoma. Its brown-yellow
stomach spreads over the parchment.
Impaled on the table, the bug bleeds forty-two braids of blood.
Its feet curl like burning moccasins.