Weapons, their hot issue piercing bone
Screams, cries for mommy, daddy.
They run, stumble, crouching against the
Mothers, fathers, waiting, their angels
frozen in place.
The Headquarters, its proud “NRA”, in
Hucksters inside, huddled, scripting
Freedom’s necessity —
the immolation of children, offered to
the pleasure of cold steel.
Holstered man-boys, gathered to caress a
Their lying recitation, “Guns don’t
Congress, cowards waiting at emails
for talking points.
People, citizens, When will it end?
The children, twenty this time, finished
Rocky Neck Avenue, Gloucester