this land is my your land

One year on E means, “Congrats! You’re not dead
yet!” There’s only a few more to live, so live wisely.
Advocate for the muzzled congregates, degenerates,
miscreants; the poor, confused, brainwashed kids.
 
They’ve got their lives ahead of them, contingent behind
public-funded doors. If they aren’t dead by 18, maybe
they can swing back-alley hormones. Maybe they
won’t have to, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.
 
Maybe the government’s bit carved their smiles
all the way to Glasgow—and this isn’t mutilation,
no. Not like that thing they call “top” and “bottom”
surgery. That’s where the line or the weapon is drawn.
 
It’s unimportant whether it’s held by someone else’s hand
or the child’s own. It’s not like the Land of the Free is too our home.