prescott by sophia sweetenham

America’s archangels

neon blinking atop

the fallen battlefield hills

radiowaves across restless river

who only stills when

naked they surrender breath

and sight, except the blue-green

phony freshwater drunk tasting

too clean

and over the waves came from

America the beautiful

America the free

America the vibrant

of whom i sing

and dream about

every blinking eyeshut

such unrelenting turmoil

to feel her hungry

cry for liberation

which never arrived

in the end

anyway –

to where it is so

different where i

am where untouched

lovely mannerly

breasts borne to the night

(still untouched

ungazed upon

unanything virile)

where i lie

under alive

ungiving

infertile mother

earth