American Nightshade
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Something in the soil
is blackening the leaves
Carcinogen-like carousels
are turning every tree
Now I fear the fruit I ate
has spoiled inside of me
Oh, will the wretched dirt I retch upon
know acid from the seeds?
When I was a child,
the gate wasn’t locked.
We stood in perfect lines as
we were sewn unto the flock
They rewrote history while we
Slept in our flower beds
while blight was blooming beneath
And they were crushing dissent
Receipts for payday loans signed by all our silver tongues.
Show me the garden, oh, it must have been beautiful once.
They broke our names in half and said the healing has begun
(And still they call it care while pulling out our petals one by one)
The place that I was born says that the battle must be won!
(But that home is not always the place you’ll find that you belong.)
You need to give me liberty or try to give me truth
I just can’t stand the in between that’s poisoning the root
They wrapped this weed in gold and
Crowned it the tallest one
Beneath the rot and fire, they sang a gilded song:
“We are but waste to harvest, hearts are all but gone.”
Show me the garden, oh, it must have been beautiful once.
In the festering wound of the hole that they left
from the plowing and tilling inside of my chest
is a message on high handed down to the slop:
"Please collect your photo and exit through the gift shop!"
Strange how all this milk and honey
feels like blood inside my tummy
If you squint and try real hard, well, you can see the sunrise when it’s early
Sure, it’s just a glow from the irradiated Hollow
What a shining city on a hill!
Stare up at it in horror.
Now there is only silence,
the iris painted cold
There’s nothing left to wallow
They story has been told
They’d slit our throats and cry out
“We are the lucky ones!”
They burnt the garden down.
It would’ve been
Should've been
Could’ve been beautiful once