Imagine yourself
among white sparks
coming off a grinding wheel.

You fly off, then vanish.
Just a byproduct
of loss in the name

of honing an edge.
What do you think
will be left behind?

It can cut. It can
let blood. I suppose 
it has its own gleam of 

beauty and a sheen
of crafter’s skill. You 
will be gone by the time

it is finished
and you feel
you deserve 

neither honor nor blame
for what comes next — so,
based on how quickly

you escape consequences,
you are probably
American through and through.