April 30, 2021

Shot

By Tony Brown

In his head, loud
had always meant final

and had been the sound
of closing. It briefly surprised him

to find that his staggering in silence
after the loud was closer to the mark.

The bullets screwed through him
noiselessly on their trajectories.

The sweep of pain throughout his body
did not make a sound

and smothered
all the rest.

Death did it all
with a long white finger to his lips.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

This entry was posted on Friday, April 30th, 2021 at 7:41 am and tagged with death, meditations, poems, poetry and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

2 responses to “Shot”

Eileen
May 1st, 2021 at 7:26 pm

Probably not what you were expressing, but reminded me that more and more I sense that my death will be like removing my finger from a large body of water. No noise, no fuss, no great loss, nothing left to mark the passage.

Reply
- Tony Brown
  May 1st, 2021 at 9:24 pm
  
  I will notice.
  
  Reply