Spring 2009 • Vol. XXXI No. 2 Poetry |

The Country That We Love

  Before the stand that sold peaches and sweet corn in the summer, someone had stood up a mannequin, dressed in a gold lam? bikini and a red wig with tiny American flags in each hand that undulated in the breeze, and I thought, isn't this the country that we love, isn't this perspective of clouds and despair deeper than usual, vultures circling lazily in the distance, as if at the end of a long tunnel.   At the end of the day, it rains through some sunlight. Birds gather. They gather and swarm and make their biometric shapes against the white sky, and noisily stands the famous country of your brain. 

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