Empire

From the parking lot, a view to the harbor.
The sign says: Veterans Enter Here.
A hoisted flag snaps for every shot fired.
For you, Empire. Don’t Walk Here
posted on a scapular of grass.
The bandshell benches painted lumpy blue.
Such innocence, I won’t chastise you.
The mind-opening the bay offers.
Green chop, glints blinding, massed boats bobbing,
their masts stripped bare. Empire, you
taught my brother kill, then killed him slow.
We won’t go into particulars here.
What is it that attracts me to the scene,
me, with no rights to the territory?
Is it civility of green and blue,
how languorous trees in spring
imprison grass, wrought shadows,
until even the pure of heart assume
if somebody has to confine the world,
it might as well be us? Those like me
excuse, say change is coming, a wave
will wash over our complicity.
Empire, you won’t end just yet.
Fireworks tonight, they’re setting up.
And it’s too late: we all benefit.