Betrayal By Jonathan Wells

America, we let you sleep too late.
You wake up groggy and confused
not recognizing the bedroom curtains.
You rise anyway, slick your hair back.
Your fingers claw the banister,
your knees buckle on the stairs.

We are your children and follow your descent
agape. Your mouth is parched so drink
of us to soothe your throat. We are
your holy water, your vitamins, your
morning pill. Without us, there is
no roof, no house, no bedrock stairs.