In preschool Kate painted the American flag

with red and white-fingered streaks,

a horizon of promised opportunity;

and a squiggled square of blue with white dots,

a domino of tolerance on the upper left;

waving hello in a cottony sky of dreams.

Kate’s words, printed in black Sharpie by her teacher,

“When I see the flag I think of freedom and God,”

bordered the bottom edge.

Now, ten historical years later,

when Kate hears “America”

or sees an American flag

the picture is not pretty anymore.

She immediately imagines

Bombs!

Terrorists!

 9-11!

Rallies!

Unemployment!

Immigrants!

Unsteady thoughts of her future

Kate need not verbalize;

it’s written all over her face.

How…Why…When……did Americans

become prisoners?