A National Anthem
The last time some man called me a faggot, mountains sang: a bird called America blushed, devoured roses. The thorns stuck in her teeth, like tough bits of meat. He got in my face. I did not blink. I sang back to my country, a quilt of torn flags; his hiss hung around my lips. His breath stank. Dogwoods bloomed pink above us. My father’s father’s mother plucked a folk ballad on catfish bones. The Ozarks wept and bled mud waterfalls, wagons broke. He said, know what that makes you? Goddamn unamerican. His snout nearly brushing mine. Dirt behind his eyes. My country, whose violences I cannot shake— whose purple pumps through my veins— whose song sticks in my lungs— whose nasty history of who owns whom is no more his than mine— then this country, too, is a faggot. He should be so lucky as to have a name. To have a changing flag and a history of plague and dancing. A whole prairie shivered. He stood still. The last time some man called me a faggot, I became a nation. Originally published in Fourteen Poems Issue 12
Audio: T.S. Leonard reads “A National Anthem”
T.S. Leonard is a poet, performer, and author of works published in Foglifter, Poetry, and Fourteen Poems. Leonard’s debut poetry collection, Another Anthem of Fabulous Survival (Fordham University Press, 2026), was selected for the 2024-2025 Poetic Justice Institute Prize. Originally from Kansas City, Missouri, he lives and teaches in San Francisco.
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