"Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue."
-Ichabod Crane, in the 1999 film, Sleepy Hollow
America bursts
out of our elementary
school books
with glorious fanfare,
fife and drum,
flag waving in the air,
looking dapper
in a red bow tie,
tails and top hat
or dressed for battle;
red boots, red gloves,
indestructible circular shield
either way,
making sure to highlight
those broad stripes
and bright stars
Stand, we are told,
hand proudly over heart,
pledging blind allegiance
to the virtuous defender
of this land of the free,
this home of the brave,
the amber waves of grain,
the open arms for
the tempest-tossed,
the country, we are told,
God shed his grace upon
Self-proclaimed hero
of our own story-book,
regurgitated repeatedly
into school children’s
unquestioning ears
grooming good little patriots
But with closer inspection,
with the benefit of time,
we came to see the blood
dripping from the shield,
the stolen land
beneath our feet
We learned that what we
“shared with the Indians,”
despite parading our
paper pilgrim hats in the hallway,
was smallpox and
the bullet end of a rifle
Our Captain, America,
was trading slaves
and sewing white hoods
always in the way of progress,
always protecting the patriarchy
Preemptive attacks,
misplaced retaliation,
oil wars and arms deals,
for-profit prisons,
children in cages,
the tempest-tossed
tossed away
Our claim to be
the hero of the story
started to conflict
with the body count
Liberty and justice for all,
but hollow words on a page,
still waiting to be realized
America, the super hero,
revealed to be just another
comic book fantasy
with continuity flaws
