*trigger warning – this poem discusses guns violence against women & others
for those that holler
demand their barrel be
locked stocked &
loaded
but have you experienced it
in a dry grassed field
pulling a metal disc
winging clay
and you protest its
senselessness
loudness of its discharge
suddenly
that barrel
turns
toward you
in slow motion
your eyes follow it
a cloud of dust rises
scuffed boots buried in dirt
its shot echoes down
a timber of greyed trees
& a scream follows
your body as it runs
away from discharged energy
anger heaving from belly
until it gets stuck in that
hollow arc of neck
burning to sound
& he chases hollering
apologies
you’re trapped
trapped on land
unfamiliar miles
miles far from home
and I wonder why
a suburban girl
has now seen a barrel
pulled more than once
by white men in rage
this time at me &
last time it was me
holding its cold body
bargaining with gods
& a guy too high
on ego and maybe meth
explaining they are kids
like us
let the in-dash thefts go
this isn’t worth prison
or death
a non descript white girl
115 wet in the wrong place
yet up close & personal
with a barrel
of a shotgun
they shout 2nd amendment
hunters want to hunt
& I say fuck that
when the tag says
human
poet under construction 