Poem: What the Gun Eats

​What the Gun Eats 

By Darren Demaree
QuailBellMagazine.com

#31 
I paint during the day.
It’s safer during the day.
My hands are cowards. ​

 
#32 
You can really flatten a dog
without much of a crunch,
but lately I only hear the pop
 
of thickened knee bones
& the pop-pop that precedes
their uselessness.  We are
 
flattening each other in parade
& nobody is even pausing
to light a single cigarette.
 
 
#33 
Hell is never lived only once.
This is why automatic weapons
can give you twelve hells
 
in one moment.  Our humor
& fantasy with such weapons
can only estimate the amount
 
of Hell it takes to bring down
one prophecy at a time.  Look!
Peace in a star-shaped wound.
​

#Unreal #Poem #GunViolence #ItDevours  #Weapons 

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