why do you chew me up,
America?
why do you ask me to stand under
your flag and its stars, when in a clock’s
turning, i move as sheep to pens, going
from stall to stall, all to learn about you,
America?

why do you hold me on your tongue,
America?
why do you let your baby sheep be
slaughtered in their pens, while your
bleating is too loud for anyone to
end the massacre of the babies;
why is there no discussion,
America?

why do you show me off,
America?
why am i on your tongue, like a snow-
flake on a child's, or the straw
on a sheep's; or the dryness on a man’s
when he is done chewing his meat,
America?

why don't you spit me out,
America?

why don't you let me sit in the mud,
by the **** and the bones of the butchered
animals,
America?

why can’t you stop the bleating--