A Gun In The First Act
Remember anger, barking fists. My knuckle rips open,
and we’re nothing but an accident. The hard summer wind
holds itself back with strings. What is a leaf bug?
Before we can find one you drop a beer bottle;
it slurs across the gravel. We blame the night sky
for not arriving fast enough, and with neon stars.
I was born in this puny city’s tallest building. Gravity,
like rough forceps, sucked my fat head into the air.
The sky’s a shiner. It moans. Short list: your heart, a handful
of muscle relaxants. We might be whale song, and not
even know it; that’s why I wear rings. One morning I wake up
and find a Derringer, politely pearled, in the front yard.
Isn’t this the mystery you were looking for? Dear Reader,
If I betray you, don’t shoot me in the mouth.