American Landscape with Borscht
When I was a boy
I made a wooden
United States flag.
I band-sawed curving
red and white stripes,
that I carefully
fitted together.
In the upper left
corner, I glued
white stars onto blue-
painted plywood.
My flag waved
every day. In windy
weather and calm.
In a big black pot,
boil, my darling,
thin-sliced
cabbage, half-
cooked pork,
mix in bubbling
red beet stew,
mush in with a fork
a softened potato,
simmer all day
and when it’s done,
ladle it out
for your Russian
husband,
as is your duty.
Lurking low
against the curb,
a rusted gray
industrial dumpster,
filled with chunks
of jack-hammered
concrete, the words
RENT ME stenciled
on its side, along with
a telephone number.
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