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POETRY / wicker rome on her deathbed with wings / Evan Anders

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foolish child,
america sips her wine

some destroyers capsize
out of vanity.

i have no more bravery
for this couplet,

perhaps tears but they occur
every four years.

america,
a wicker rome
on her deathbed

ration the ash,
flame is fire without lust.

foolish child,
swallow your pills

freedom in your pocket

enough of the blade, cotton candy emotions,
her northern star, the dixie hangover.

american

a fall to captivate
the cynics

in the modern age,
we are all entertainers.

foolish frost,
you’re never gonna make it

ration your chance

before they get sick of yankee
prestige.

my sister, save your breath
the confetti won’t last forever.

america spreads her wings to mercurial ovation

all the tin soldiers
couldn't remove your makeup

some scars linger.

strike a match, lean against the bend

america, it’s darker at night
but i guess that’s everywhere.


Evan Anders brews coffee for mass consumption in Philadelphia. His poems have appeared in Philadelphia Stories, California Quarterly, North Dakota Quarterly, and Third Point Press. He changes diapers and thinks Bob Dylan was best in the eighties.