the word bullet

my poem
is a gun

I craft
my bullets

just one shot
at a time

~

America
you are eating
your own

I look
at you
in horror

~

every third day
another
blood spectacle

thumbs down

I give
thumbs down

~

courage

a lesson
unlearned

behind the sight
of a gun

shooting
school

~

Parkland

what memorial?

what would be
good enough?

never again?

~

so many lies

so many
lives

caricature
becomes
platitude

~

my poem?
a poor gun

my bullets?
small words

no target
stays in sight

~

tomorrow
is Third Day

will the trend
keep killing

I wait …

hold my breath

~

News: Parkland shooting

Author: Frank Prem

Just the poetry. That is all.

4 thoughts on “the word bullet”

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