Rhapsodic about freedom since we dumped
the tea, our muscles stronger than our reason,
is hierarchy baked into our bones?
Woman/slave, you will wear a master’s name.
Child, you will wear the school tie.
Fresh beings, you will suffer hazing
under upper class beings. Meanwhile
one summer night a crowd sprawling
in folding chairs they’ve hauled to a parking lot
alongside drink bottles & funeral fans
waits on Gershwin’s Rhapsody beamed out
into melting air, this best rhapsody
some would say, for symphony & jazz band —
is it better than cicadas?
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