try to use something
more gentle than
guns and fire
to describe the way
you feel after a shared
sleepless night —
it is not always a struggle
no matter how sore you are
in the morning

there are things to be said
for sunrise and cool bedroom air
things to be said for short sleep
and long waking

this talk of taking aim
and waiting for
the smell of smoke
may make a cocked and loaded
initial sense
but not for what happens when
the guns are laid aside
when the duel is done

there is a
peace between us
that was always there
waiting to be
observed

mention that you’re not writing poetry, and…

this, by the way, is most assuredly NOT a suicide poem. 🙂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

revolver

in love with the potential
for the shattering, and not
always prepared to make it happen,

nonetheless you listen
holding your breath
until you hear it
turn until
it clicks into place
with a solid “chunk”
that sounds like fate.

there is a moment like that,
available and explosive,
in every life —
in some lives there are more than one.

but the way you handle the trigger
is the key to how much you’re like
the next guy:

set it down or
pick it up?

steady hand or with a tremble
in the touch?

squeeze, jerk
or pull?

and —

where do you point the thing
in case it does go off?