My name is a flag.
Big things.
I was born inside a parade,
my teeth biting down on ridges of a silver baton.
I hold my small chin upward. I killed a man in St. Louis, once.
I wear an iron crown of matches. I’ve started kicking back.
Break all the plate glass windows for me, won’tcha?
Fireworks, then fireworks. A diamond we’ll hawk later.
It’s a dangerous life, and wild:
We are beautiful, scared animals in a swamp.
I will nuzzle you in the mist while God watches,
pearl-handled revolver in his holster.
No double-cross waits in my black eyes.
It’s too good to be close to you.
I was a girl who wanted things to happen. You, for starters.
And you happened to me.
