A lot of this book attempts to navigate history as rewritten,
as mythologies similar to how Homer wrote the "Iliad" 400
years after the Trojan War.
But it looks at more contemporary moments.
In this poem looks at a moment, an infamous moment,
that occurred in 1963 in this country.
"Of The Icing."
We made it baby.
We're riding in the back of the black limousine.
They have lined the road to shout our names.
They have faith in your golden hair and pressed gray suit.
They have a good citizen in me.
I love my country.
I pretend nothing is wrong.
I pretend not to see the man and his blond daughter diving
for cover, that you're not saying my name
and it's not coming out like a slaughterhouse.
I'm not Jackie O. yet.
And there isn't a hole in your head.
A brief rainbow through a mist of rust.
I love my country, but who am I kidding?
I'm holding your still hot thoughts in, darling.
My sweet, sweet, Jack.
I'm reaching across the trunk for a shard of your memory.
The one where we kiss and the nation glitters.
You're slumped back, your hand letting go,
you're all over the seat, now deepening my fuchsia dress.
But I'm a good citizen surrounded
by Jesus and ambulances.
I love this country, the twisted faces my country, the blue sky,
black limousine, my one white glove glistening pink
with all our American dreams.