just as the fathers intended

Hikari Leilani Miya

on the 246th birthday of some ageing parchment 

written by white men declaring autonomy from  

other white men wearing red, I wear red 

and orange on my tank top that says rome. 

I roam around a man-made lake encircled  

by fat worms of duck and geese shit, trapping 

heat in my black hair beneath my black 

witch hat, trapping virtual monsters grinning 

in pixels on my phone. at home I am trapped 

with my black cat inside, by the fear of gunshots 

that have already transmogrified this nation  

into a coagulation of red. I make black 

rice noodle miso soup with bok choy  

while reading Amanda Gorman, Sianne Ngai,the

‘best things to beat the summer heat’ on buzzfeed.  

there are no happy 4th texts, just stay safe and  

keep reading. brown skin darkens in the window 

as black words heat my palms. in the dark

of night there are five bursts of light visible from my balcony,

smoke wafting  up the street illuminated by red. I am not 

trapped by a girlfriend, but instead trapped 

by a white man in power who says love should not be so. 

I look into my albino snake’s red eyes and finally  

understand. this is what it means to be free. 

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On ‘just as the fathers intended’

This poem explores the irony of the American dream and declaration of independence in 2022. The author defiantly incorporates non-American elements into a day reserved for Americans, highlighting the limitations of the founding fathers’ imagination.