Poet's Corner: 'Guns Won't Feed You, But Hold Out Your Hands'

Ruth Awad
Ruth Awad

And forget for a moment

the machine is itself alive

and by design

sated with the alien

softness of organ,

the temporary

framework of bone.

Point its muzzle

only at what you are willing

to destroy –

notice your target and what

is beyond it

and beyond

it – your neighbor,

the dog, a child.

A bullet's path

is characterized by hunger –

how far and how long

and how much?

The truth is the mechanics

don't come naturally.

It should take more

than a finger.

It should

destroy you.