Thanksgiving poem

The night I saw you magnetized to your gun

Clutching it like a child in the hall outside his bedroom

A Chinese bolt-action rifle

I didn’t know anything about guns, I just knew it was big

Zane pulled my head to chest to avoid spatter

You held onto that bullet for years

And I held your head as you screamed on dark nights

Shoved Xanax in your crying face

Standing outside the classroom

Where teacher has forgotten you

And from the red mouth,

A melody

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