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D.C. al Coda
Siren Hand

I (A)
“Drill Sergeant, can you burn my flag?”
I wave away his smirk and motion, Give it here.
The Private pries the Velcro flag from his uniform
fuzzy from wear (fuzzier than his rank),
embroidery tension-frayed from everyday tear.
The sparkstart of  a lighter
  a flame
  a flashpoint—
This is one thing, among us, I say,
but be careful who’s watching: 
we wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.
It’s one thing, to burn the edges of  this patch,
    make it good as new,
  acceptable for wear.
It’s another to burn it out of  boredom.
This is your flag, too.  Care for it as you need to.
The questioning refrain: 
and when people burn it for protest?
Covered under free speech.  All of  it:
The right to burn a flag
 To kneel with it,
 To fly it upside down in distress—
If  a protestor feels there’s need for it.
This cloth is voice, and presence, and power.
If  not for all, then for whom?

II (A) 
It’s 12:49pm. My heart is pounding 
 the drumroll of  another Civil War
in my throat
in hours of/and seconds
in prayer
in refrain
 beating like a flagpole on the Capitol steps
 and there is no place for this type of  wrong:



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this spark of  a flashpoint, 
      a flame, 
      a warning:
This is one thing, among us,
but be careful who’s watching
some dead flag parades the halls as a living victor.
I wonder if  the hands of  Clio’s clock stopped
  if  she watched from the hallways of  the House,
  wonder if  her gaze was in glee or horror,
    if  it was some rebirth of  a nation, again.
How many has she midwifed?

I (B)
Private, are you asking because in August
A Black football player kneeled
 (kneeled: as in protest
    as in prayer
    as in reverence
    as in acknowledgement)
instead of  burning it, or putting his hand over his heart,
instead of  complying to violence?
Some considered this the greatest offense, disrespect to our flag—
never like recoloring it black and blue
  (as in brutality,
   as in bruising from
the finger-deep press to find a pulse
of  the Black cadaver).

III
This cloth is voice, and presence, and power.
If  not for all, then for whom?
Give a name to the distress.
Signal however you can.
Make your grief  unmistakable—  
          your questions, unavoidable.
The sacrifice of  symbols is a sacred voice
People will always judge you for it
    seek ways to invalidate
it.  You.  Your life
  heart
  beating in refrain:



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This is your flag, too.  Care for it as you need to.
     burn
   make        new,
  acceptable           .
You have the right.
if   there’s need for it.

II (B)
I emailed the Architect of  the Capitol to ask
If  any clocks were broken during the riots.
“None of  the historic clocks were damaged on January 6,”
As if  Time kept going,
 with or without the whole Nation behind it.

D.C. al Coda
The thread from his Flag shrinks from the heat
              coiling tightly
              blackening into crumbling
              rubbing into good-as-new
              into January 7th,
into some refrain of  a spotless nation
put back as it was supposed to be— no one ever the wiser.