I Told You
That the implosion
Of the United States
Would occur in our lifetime
That hatred would
Consume itself
Bite off its hands
Feed on its entrails
Feed on its own children
That this would explode into
A billion body parts like fireworks
On the 4th of July
I told you the sun would rise
One dead mornings
Around white picket-fenced corners
Waking Dick and Jane
Turning their faces toward the mirror
Crystallizing the cries of dead bodies
Floating down rivers
Of massacres and mass graves
That the U.S. in Bosnia
Would take Oklahoma by surprise
That the U.S.
In the Middle East
In Africa
Would pay New York City a visit
That U.S. policy makers
Would meet in chandeliered-rooms
For breakfast
For lunch
For dinner
To toss stacks of paper around
Like some ball game
White-collar trash men
I told you that assassins
Would come back into style
That the Dark Ages would thrive
In the 21st century
I told you that McCarthy
Would miraculously
Come back from the dead
Nancy Mercado
©2004
