Sunday Picnic

She is breaking out
from this war. Each layer
of blood is peeled away
and she is closer to the air
today. She wonders: "If America
is so fond of freedom then
why are Americans chained
to so many desks? Don't we have
something better to do?"
And she tries to imagine
what that something might be,
so she gazes downward
and dreams of ants crawling
out of their holes to join
the Sunday picnic. Everyone
eats together.