I see the flare
of illumination,
the semi-auto sparks
I hear dark silence set in,
move toward me
as anxiety arcs
I smell the fat
from too-lean bodies
burning a block away
I taste death
acrid, biting, bitter
this cold January day
I feel the trigger
of my M4, comfort,
in a frightening way
I envision
the future, just minutes ahead,
know a choice can now be made
I settle the muzzle
just under my chin
squeeze hard, my last card played
Empowered, I didn’t let them kill me.
Process Notes:
I’m currently reading The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers and just read “Walking to Walter Benjamin’s Grave” by Gavin Jones. The two pieces of writing prompted this one.
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