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This poem is taken from PN Review 190, Volume 36 Number 2, November - December 2009.

John Winthrop's Ghost Dan Burt

Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms


I

We were baptised in a fable
And catechised when we were able
That peruked enlightened men
Wielding parchment and quill pen,
Europe’s peasants with raised eye
Watching Liberty slide by,
Freedmen offering hosannas
Heroes in the Marianas
Built a city on a hill.

We believed, as children will:
Thrilled when a veteran’s cold
Claw set our pygmy paws to hold
A Jap rifle he’d dragged home
Behind his leg of steel and chrome
Illustrating how to bayonet
...


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