We Don’t Grieve Anymore in This Town (microfiction)

When was the last time I saw a man die? It was yesterday, in fact, right in front of my eyes. His head was blown apart, point-blank range, and I was about twenty feet away, watching the violence unfold. It was cold and gray that morning, but nothing else about what happened was unusual. This is the reality now.

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Love is More Potent Than Your Guns (a poem)

Mass death is the name of this game
Don’t let it become normal
School shootings aren’t normal
Assault rifles in 18-year-old hands, not normal
Murdered children and politicians who don’t care
None of this is normal

Outrage is the proper emotion
Anger is to be expected
Scared parents are normal
Depression and despair, also normal
Fits of crying is perfectly normal

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A Flower for Every Gun (a poem)

I want to replace every gun with a flower
I want to heal the world
Of course, it’s not possible
But what if?

Every time someone is shot
I’ll plant a rose garden
Or maybe some daffodils
Every time a gun is bought
I’ll teach a child their ABC’s
Or buy them twenty books

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Blood Drowning (a poem)

Rage gun fury
Blood on my face, blood on my hands
Blood everywhere
Bloody Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday
Blood every day of the week
Dip your phone in blood before you check the news feed
I woke up in my bloody bed, washed my bloody head
Blood at the grocery store, at the schools
God is crying blood
I screamed; blood spewed from my mouth
Stars and stripes soaked with blood
Blood on the streets, up to my ankles, like Morrison said
Blood drives for the loss of blood
Bleeding out in the 3rd grade
Blood from the suicides
Blood from moms who cried
Blood from those who died
A wave and tide of blood
Drowning in blood
Mix it with the mud
Wash everything in blood
Soak the soil, the bloody roots
The tree of blood, tree of dead wisdom
Tree of hanged men, tree of dead kin
Take my blood, it’s yours to keep
They like it this way, so let’s serve it up
The exploded heads and chests
The body parts in the classroom
The bloody assault rifles
The bloody protests
The blood we give
Born in the blood, death in blood
Take my blood, it’s all yours

Author’s Note: RIP America (again).

(Photo by Max Muselmann on Unsplash)