Part 2: "by the oath I will keep"
by Sydney Mayes
"so how do we re-think rot, decay and decomposition as something desirable?"
Yasmine Ostendorf-Rodriguez
In “Flag Etiquette” by Ayling Dominguez we are met with the erasure of the burning haibun, and the erosion of ‘a national identity’, one that demands loyalty, artifice and violence. This erosion, this formal decomposition that Dominguez works with in her poem forces us as readers to ask what we have invested in the American flag—what myths have we bought into, what indoctrination have we let crystallize inside of us, and how do we break it down. I don’t think it is a mistake that a poem interested in shattering the farce of patriotism is one that is so invested in decaying and migrating language. We can see, even within the space of the burning haibun that Dominguez is shifting the location of language, the words are never where we last left them. And like one parsing what it means to live in this country—the goal posts move. What you are told is foundational is quaking beneath your feet.
This burning haibun, as created by torrin a. greathouse and used exceptionally here by Dominguez, is an act of erasure as decomposition. It is the rotting of language into altered meaning. What is redacted decomposes the meaning of the original text while also imbuing it with newness, a second voice beneath the black. Where can we in our own lives break down language and propaganda? Where can we see ourselves in this poem? And as we navigate an increasingly fascist world, how can we decompose oppressive institutions, how can we rot into something greater?
Dominguez’s poem makes me hopeful that we can take what we have been taught—an etiquette of our oppressors—break it down and build something new in the process. As we keep our eye on the ashes, we too keep our eye on the future.
Writing Prompt:
If you’re up for it, you can write a burning haibun. But broadly, I want to offer this as a prompt: write a prose poem that includes a question or a series of questions. Consider what you want to interrogate—this can be questions of citizenship, patriotism, migration, truly anything you want to get to the heart of. Then, take that prose poem and see what happens when you push the language right or left.
See what happens when you decay language—maybe take letters off certain words, indoctrination can become indoctrination or citizenship can become citizenship.
See what happens when you decompose language—My language lacks flare because the anthem took it all to adorn the rockets / My language lacks flare because the anthem took it all to adorn the rockets.
Get to the ashes of the poem, look deeply. See if you’ve answered the question posed in your initial prose block. See if you can find a new voice beneath the old one.
Below, you can submit your poem to be displayed in our upcoming blog featuring works in conversation with this anthology.