The Inevitability of Bullets

It’s the guns.

I cannot stop thinking about the inevitability of bullets —
how they will leave us in pieces, in shadow, in splinters.

I cannot stop thinking about our bodies emptied upon impact
without blood or tissue or bone —
What will we leave behind?
Not our fears —
of snakes, or clowns, or quicksand.
Those are already gone, whispers of what we’ve lost;
a time when we were haunted by the…