US Territory

Puerto Rico always ever the bullseye

For the US Navy or hysterical

Hurricanes riding sins of weakness,

Always a port, and only ever a port

On the sea of dispatched goods,

Where retirees walk the gangplanks

To cherish the kitsch of island life,

Hispanic spices in the mix, on facades

And the smiles of waiters and maids

And shopkeepers meeting the high

Mainland expectations you saved for.

To fishermen, and those who can never

Get off, that passport is like the branch

Aeneas rips from the earth, his ticket

To the underworld where Puerto Rico

And Detroit poison in hatred's blood;

You would have to have a heart of steel

To see no tomorrow in your kid's face.

Puerto Rico always ever the bullseye,

And civilization our only offer

For location location location, smack

In an archipelago the whole world 

With air forces and armies and navies

Wants a piece of, land where you do 

What's necessary, what's demanded,

What made you go in the first place—

The natives, citizens like Souix, Pawnee,

Theirs in prison for acts of terrorism,

The word itself a kind of terrorism, stuck

Behind bars for defending mother’s house.

Now, imperial winds arrive to clear out

The coffers, and toss around the remains

Of bankers’ properties, battering shacks

Along the coast into concrete slabs; rafter 

Boards and faucet fixtures in sunshine

Once it turns north to become The News.

Puerto Rico was never not a bullseye,

Bombarded off the coast like a pile of sand;

Flagged as was the moon, it still feels

Like conquistador colonists yet thrive

And treat the natives just as we do, 

And for all the same glittering reasons.