|poem| The Gun

  • Evolved over the centuries to kill,
  • The gun is mankind’s best friend
  • It takes a whole, breathing life
  • And tears it to tatters in an instant’s rend
  • Saddam Hussein had a gold-plated AK-47
  • He marveled in its utility
  • The average American family has one in the closet
  • It’s known for its brutality
  • Bullets scatter on the floor like diamonds
  • Their curved heads glitter in the light
  • If ever you stare down a gun’s bore in the flesh
  • It will mean for you the approaching, all-encompassing night
  • Sing a song to death
  • Make a paean to the moving target
  • To eliminate a foe is not a conscience-laden moment
  • Not something to even a bit regret
  • Life is like a whorled, multicolored shell
  • Even when it puts us through hell
  • It waits for us to get well
  • And tell the secrets we will tell

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