Gay Pride is raised, and Dixie's down.
The Kenyan king inside his House
has it lit to reflect his crown.
Ms. Jenner's teats swell in her blouse.
Burrs prick the sky in Baltimore,
more melons ripen in the South.
The US of old is no more.
The racist straight must shut his mouth.
We are all now confederate,
with midnight spangled overhead,
although beyond, cold, temperate,
the stars say the dawn will be red.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem