Coughing Up the Flag
Matt Pasca
without breath, eagle is meaningless – terri muuss
It’s been three weeks—mid July hacking
as if my chest were wet with pinballs-
graduation’s spiteful nodes for me
to choke out & I look out & on TV
brown hands surround South Carolina’s
state house in a halo, hailing
an undoing, the air itself drenched
with song & relieved of another
confederate X—13 more stars
hacked from our endless
national convulsion. I want
to sing along but can’t
want to cheer but think instead
of little Bryson sniffing marigolds
saying streetlights mean mutant
ninja turtles with bandanas & swords
will bring vitamins at bedtime, who
is all three year-old cheeks & lashes
all pupil-wild romance with pencil
grip & swim class kicking. Even now
eyes red with bias & white benefit
expunge his interior, the Captain America
shield on his pillow, naps on dad’s chest
or road trip carseat, switch his body
for savage. Someday, they will find his placid
skin where they can fear it—marshaled thugs
standing their ground under streetlights
where no Rafael or Leonardo can save
Bryson’s beauty from a heart’s worst
mutation. This is not the end of peristalsis-
it is more like sobbing
like trapped breath
like freedom doubled over
some glory it might have known.
about the writer
Matt Pasca is a poet, teacher and traveler who believes in art’s ability to foster discovery, empathy and justice. He has authored two poetry collections--A Thousand Doors (2011 Pushcart nominee) and Raven Wire (2017 Eric Hoffer Book Award Finalist)—and serves as Assistant Poetry Editor of 2 Bridges Review. In his corner of New York, Matt facilitates The Sunday Grind, a bi-weekly writing workshop, curates Second Saturdays @Cyrus, a popular poetry series, and spreads his unwavering faith in critical thought and word magic to his Poetry, Mythology and Literature students at Bay Shore High School, where he has taught for 22 years and been named a New York State Teacher of Excellence. www.mattpasca.com