Amerigun
What is it now, a most 40 years?Don’t think I’ve always missed you, sometimesI’ve forgotten you, you and your Ameriguns,the ones Dad found in your apartment after you diedand dumped in Powell’s Cove—Why? When you told me you’d learnedyour lesson—but there are no lessonsfor Ameriguns, only more Amerigunsthey reproduce like rabbits, lol—Ameriguns, we give themto toddlers, we love the troubledboys to have them for ChristmasAmeriguns under the tree, all wrappedand waiting to be lovedAnd you (accident, accident)carry your Amerigun into the next lifeyou use it like an oar to ferry you overuse it like a metal straw to drink your milkit’s a telescope when you hold it to your eyeAmerigun with the extrachamber you forgot about, didn’t emptyas you emptied the othersas you joked about shooting yourselfas you shot yourselfin…
You're reading a preview of
The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, July/August 2023