Wear hope and glory on your sleeve

Shoot the future 

Mask the dead 

Choose your nature 

Blindly, for 

 

Patriotic fire celebrates the lost.

Ask me anything, she said 

Torch held high, book in hand,

Of answers you already know. 

 

Wait with me and watch, she said,

The opening night for fireworks

and Atom bombs, a jubilant

murder of 

Independence. 

Ah, the age of reason when 

Blood pays entrance fees 

To save us from our ourselves.

 

Ask me anything, she said, 

Except what should be asked. 

 

The curtain closes to applause

Splashing rationalism into 

Puddles of 

Red, white, and blue— 

Hypnotized pride, 

 

Secret fact. 

 

I will be your answer: 

Every death 

Every crime 

Every battle 

Every time.

 

 

Author

  • Chris Cummins

    Chris Cummins lives and teaches English outside Buffalo, New York including creative writing and drama. In addition, he directs plays and musicals and teaches in a film academy, a multi-faced learning experience which includes script-writing, acting and video editing. Although his most recent work focused on the writing and production of two locally performed musicals, his first writing love is poetry; he’s been featured in the Buffalo News and other small presses.

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America Chris Cummins Corruption Dystopia Poetry