America Sickly Quiet Unknown

Tashiana Seebeck

What’s the underside of utopia?

To know that, we must first know
utopia. I think I know

nothing beyond the bedroom window
until I flatten my hands to sky

like the underside of a wide glass table.
Then I know everything.

What they tell us of peace.
Where the missiles were manufactured,

or not the missiles but their tiny
game-like controls,

which they say is very different.

Why we need more
missile-control factories and fewer

playgrounds in this neighborhood.

I know how to play

hopscotch, how to gut a hare,
how to sustain eye contact with the tin roof

as it falls like a serrated knife.
I know how to wear a kufiya

and I can say my prayers in three languages,

starting with Father please hold me
accountable.

What I don’t know
amounts to everything

else: soil blood taxes death.

How to make games
out of breaking the sky.

Where to look
on the full sun of ourselves,
beyond the imperial shadow.

Why silence
follows us

home, like a missile homing
system. Not like a missile at all.

TASHIANA SEEBECK (she/her) is originally from Southern California. She holds an MFA in poetry from Colorado State University. Her work can be found in ANMLY, Digging Press, West 10th and on poets.org as an Academy of American Poets Prize recipient. Find her at https://seebeck.carrd.co/