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Killing Kennedy — poem from my early 20s
Lesser Shadows
the buildings wait for the assassins
the shadows are prepared for them --
they flow like dark sheets
of blood from underneath the doors
there are many vacant rooms
many rifles waiting
soon the assassins begin to arrive
they are all a little crazy
moved by politics or dark desires
they are tense and frightened
but eager, jostling one another
for places at the windows
there are assassins behind bushes
assassins on roofs
and distant hilltops
there are so many assassins
there are assassins crouched
in shadows of assassins
it is good that the victim is young
and wealthy
it is good that
he seems to symbolize something
now they prepare their weaponry
his car goes by
the triggers click
a thousand bullets meet
inside a single head
the skull explodes
the president is dead
silently
some with spittle running
from the corners of their mouths
some dazed
as though awaking from a trance
the assassins file out of the buildings
past the shocked, staring faces to the highways
past the farthest edges of the sun's descending red
and, as night absorbs the lesser shadows
America absorbs her murderers
completely
the buildings wait for the assassins
the shadows are prepared for them --
they flow like dark sheets
of blood from underneath the doors
there are many vacant rooms
many rifles waiting
soon the assassins begin to arrive
they are all a little crazy
moved by politics or dark desires
they are tense and frightened
but eager, jostling one another
for places at the windows
there are assassins behind bushes
assassins on roofs
and distant hilltops
there are so many assassins
there are assassins crouched
in shadows of assassins
it is good that the victim is young
and wealthy
it is good that
he seems to symbolize something
now they prepare their weaponry
his car goes by
the triggers click
a thousand bullets meet
inside a single head
the skull explodes
the president is dead
silently
some with spittle running
from the corners of their mouths
some dazed
as though awaking from a trance
the assassins file out of the buildings
past the shocked, staring faces to the highways
past the farthest edges of the sun's descending red
and, as night absorbs the lesser shadows
America absorbs her murderers
completely
Published on November 22, 2014 11:07
•
Tags:
kennedy-assassination, poetry
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