Sunday, September 7, 2008

The Song of the Gun


    A people dedicated to

    the song of the gun

    the stuttering percussion

    preceding

    the siren's soprano aria

    descending

    into the low chorus of moans...


I love my gun

my gun shields me

from the wicked and the dark

my gun warms me

and I it

my pulse carried to its extremities,

breathing my breath.


I wake afraid in the night

clutching under my pillow

at the night stand

on the floor under my bed

until my fingers touch

the ice of my sleeping gun,

and I find peace.


How easy to still my wife's breathing

if she'd angered me

how easy to solve any dilemma

to cut through

like the man I am

my eye hard and cold

my heart pumping the secret blood.


    A people dedicated to

    the song of the gun

    a swelling bass,

    into crescendo

    the brass credenza,

    into a whimper...


My gun loves me

to handle it

to oil its crevasses

to adjust its mechanism delicately

to settle it in my hand,

filling the empty spaces

my warmth bleeding into its cold.


I wander the street at night

eyes left to right

over the shoulder

my heart small and afraid

until, by chance, my fingers touch

my gun,

my heart swells with courage.


My eyes watch those

who could be dead or dying

all in my power

I, the stronger, they the weaker

the individual and the faceless mob

the armed and the unarmed

my life with my gun.


    A people dedicated to

    the song of the gun

    the rise of the timpani

    the coming cry of the siren

    interwoven in the score

    meant to go unhitched

    to the muted whimpering chorus...


We lie like lovers,

my fingers gradually loosening

as if I'm going to sleep

with my love beside me

nestled in my palm

untouched and unmoved

by the violence all around us.


Oh my gun protects me

from the shadows and the shades

that lay across my soul

doubts that impede my motion

my fingers seek it

as my tongue tastes blood;

shield me from danger.


How easy to let go

to hate that once beloved

the betrayer

if I had the strength I would

hurl it away

the savage moment behind me

and only death ahead.

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