You say shut the door

You say shut it

You say

Why doesn’t someone shut that dog up

You say why doesn’t someone

You say why

You say nobody listens to me

You say nobody asked me

You say I’d give them a piece of my mind

But what you mean is your mouth

Your fists your spit your disgust your jealousy your might– fuck right.

You say shooting

To the stars, you say

I didn’t mean to trigger

You. Cocked, locked and loaded.

Every word sounds like a gun

Coming from your mouth.

Bullet points and bullseye, target

Practice, shooting stars.

You draw a blank, a dud.

Speak to me in staccato.

in all caps.  Your words

are rock shot pellets balls pills.  You tell me

this is what it takes to be a man

Aim. Breathe.  Control yourself.

Your movement, your trigger.

Now follow through.

See, you say in a whisper, in a voice

Cool enough to wound,

Artimis, the goddess of chastity

And hunting, her bow and arrow slung

Across her body, wears a short tunic

to make it easier

To run.

Who is the God of guns? Every man

Who uses one? Every word that sounds like one?

What is God’s powerful weapon?

(Google says Prayer) and the very next link

21 glorious gifts for gun lovers—here’s two:

Cold bullets you can put in your whisky to chill it.

And the gun-shaped beer cap map—

Because guns are America,

How you get from here

To there.