Sirens blare: we know what for –
there will be vigils soon, tear-stained mothers,
confounded communities gathered outside
grocery stores, warehouses, or wherever
it happened this time –
we’ll stare at each other, think, “why?”
& not have an answer,
we’ll glare at each other, think,
“When can we make it stop?”
but we know it goes on & on,
ad nauseum, gunshot after gunshot,
the same sordid story into infinity:
Uncle Sam’s demented nightmare-land
where AK-47s seem to have more rights
than you & me.
Author’s Note: I wrote this poem in response to the endless mass shootings in America right now, where it seems like nowhere is safe from random violence. I don’t know much about the gun control debate, but each time one of these instances happens, I’m perplexed that there’s no common-sense way to stop this.