Hunting expedition.
All alone,
and afraid,
aged, infant-minded 
America aims
the big gun 
at her prey.
Heart closed off.
Gaze pinched, winced 
for the coming blast.
She’s had her eye on 
               this
for such a long time.
Patient in her passion.
Hungry for a blood sacrifice.
“Your freedom enslaves me,”
she lies and whispers to herself.
Liberty, look at your wayward 
               daughter,
wanderlust-consumed child.
See her finger tighten, 
squeeze down 
over the trigger.
The eagle rings above.
Its shadow rings below.
“He has no right!
And it is such a simple 
thing, ending this breath,
taking this life.
Hardly a life at all.
Little more 
than an automaton.
He deserves not
this glorious flight.
He asked for it,
demanded this,
with every flap
of its broad, bright
ignorant wings.”
Liberty, look to your fallen 
               daughter,
bloodlust-consumed child.
She’s forgotten herself.
               Sees
not what she’s become.
America, hero 
in her own mistaken mind,
in her own twisted heart,     
takes her time,
aims true,
aims falsely.
Ends an icon.
Nathan Wade Calley is an educator living and working in Brownsville, TX.
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