POETRY April 4, 2025

The Truest American Flag

I woke up as an American citizen

the way one wakes up

with a dick drawn on their back

in permanent marker.

Scrolling the news,

I read that several American flags

jumped another flag

and beat it so badly

you can’t see its colors anymore.

It’ll have to be completely reconstructed.

The American flag on my neighbor’s lawn

moved in with a Trump 2024 sign,

and they won’t stop yelling everything—

even their “I love you”s—

and it’s ruining my sleep.

The American flag outside the 7-Eleven

has the heaviest bags

under its eyes, and when I can’t sleep,

we smoke menthols together.

It’s as near to friends

as I’ve ever been with a flag.

But the truest American flag

is still the one on the moon

pretending it can fly.

Natalia Prusinska (she/her) is a queer poet. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, Passages North, Cream City Review, petrichor, and elsewhere. She lives with her partner in Los Angeles.
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