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by Elizabeth Spesia

this land is our land    this land our slaughterland
tallgrass casualty of sprawl & might
dust along    the scattered bison we claim
the treaties we make     (intend to shred)
we burn the land     to the ground     just to make it 
disappear    we name 
the land    plant civilization 
mine for stone        then steel    smokestacks
the same smokestacks     that smear the sky     
their wicked plumes    take no prisoners    human  water  
land  air     beg for relief     parcel off and profit    
we fear nothing     not with guns
and God before us    the white hot sun that keeps rising

Elizabeth Spesia

About Elizabeth Spesia

Elizabeth Spesia is a Fulbright English teacher in Puebla, Mexico. She is a graduate of the MFA program at Mount Saint Mary’s University in Los Angeles, and her poems have appeared in Copper NickelTinderbox Poetry Journal, and Crab Creek Review.

Cold Mountain Review is published once a year in the Department of English at Appalachian State University. Support from Appalachian’s Office of Academic Affairs and College of Arts and Sciences enables CMR’s learning and publications program. The views and opinions expressed in CMR do not necessarily reflect those of university trustees, administration, faculty, students, or staff.