...more mass shootings—
5 in Ohio,
7 in Texas,
4 in Michigan...
A chorus of promises rains down
from our leaders
during their permanent rehearsals
for action
against guns stacked
in basements,
in night stands,
in shoe boxes...
And so it continues
to rain guns with more
rain tomorrow
and all of this year
and all of the next...
So that chorus of promises
worries me here in my kitchen
where my flowers wilt in fear.
We feel insecure when
every day five guys
or fifty
go soggy
in puddles of blood.
I go to bed and the next morning
the news starts newsing.
More bloody rain
on the porch,
on the dance floor,
on the dead's stiff hands
stuck in the air.
Even now
the shooters’ anger prowls
around our streets,
waking up our dogs.
They are not elsewhere,
they are everywhere and
I weep because nothing
will stop them.
I beg the editors,
mayors, cops
and the whole chorus shakes
their heads
and they think about it
every day
then once a week
then once a year.
The guns drag them
on leashes
to count casings,
and they all howl
and their tongues thicken
with thoughts and prayers
as rifles point at our beds
squat on our sidewalks,
enter our schools,
invisible till
they stand in our door.
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