There is a thread running through America
Between ground beef and hamburger buns
around bowls of macaroni salad and lakes
lined with houses rich people own
and still rent to ghosts of the middle class
Woven into Stars and Stripes, like
a wick leading to fireworks on the 4th of July
It’s the hair in your slice of apple pie
Sewn into smallpox blankets to cover up
A thread that leads to an end tied around
the trigger of a gun
aimed directly
at ourselves
