Can be fragile, easy
to fade or be erased, all
It takes is a single heavy hand
or a legend thrown
Like a gauntlet, the hand that opens
an island’s body, an autopsy.
Nothing says empire
like a flag, says republic like fabric
Stretched & strung, swathes
of land tethered, a sanguine stitch
Of the tongue, language conquers
from within before the blade
Separates flesh & kin,
breath & the line, all
Broken by a wall
& a people’s history
Crumbling in another’s wake
From Blood/Sound (Central Square Press, 2019). Copyright © 2019 by Fred L. Joiner. Used with the permission of the author.