I pledge allegiance to the flag of my own existence
and to the folly for which it stands on this February
day as dark, inscrutable as the flock of starlings I
watched this afternoon suddenly split in two and form
a perfect pair of angel wings that did, I swear, ascend
over the Cowboy Church three or four asphalt miles
past Warrenton, Virginia, whose sad marquee spoke
in missing letters, reminding me of careless dentistry
and human suffering everywhere, though it gladdened my heart
somehow to know I didn’t know the secrets of this world.
I pledge allegiance to the numbness that gives birth to spring,
to faith that’s holding fast or unravels stitch by stitch,
to one nation under clouds, indivisible as the soul,
with liberty and the justice of bafflement for all.