Under the Gun
Open your eyes. Reinvent me. Heaven
Sent. Flamed teardrops die gracefully
Above your heart. How I hear the
Footsteps of the dead trample over us,
Yet we are both powerless to breath.
I fall from the face of the planet.
Reaching out for a passing star to
Catch me. Oceans laugh at my plight.
Hide in the darkness, then turn their
Backs on me. Offer themselves to
Red-robed warriors.
Swallow that anger. I know how it
Tastes. Chambered sorrow vented
At the frozen children. The frenzied
Touch of ebony as it touches your
Face, like snow, it knows us all
Too well.
Thirteen
Copyright © Dean Drinkel | Year Posted 2008
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