The map’s outline of national identity, a sovereign state
whose divisions are won by the shout of votes or lies or

both. A geography of politics too – what the CIA book
of facts names Country, the indefinite article of its

indiscriminate belonging, if the locals are to be believed.
How it’s ‘Tis of Thee and countrée and the Holy See and

all the other derivations of history and all the other
accents of liberty: I say/you say/they say in this global

magic three. Hear it in this cadence and rhythm of that
rhyming, otherwise it will be the twang of another inflection

or in the haunt and lament of a midnight pedal steel, maybe
whippoorwill in those hillbilly lyrics of a different tagging.

Even in its etymology we cannot agree. On exit I hear a bird
cry, you hear song, and they hear a national anthem ring.

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