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Monday, April 16, 2018

SOMEONE ALWAYS GETS SHOT WHEN THE GUNS COME OUT By Farrah Field

I took a guy to the woods and he took out a gun

A question of agency

I should’ve locked myself in the car and told him to put it away that we should’ve been fooling around and that gun was ruining things for me

I didn’t want anyone to get accidentally shot

And also now I have a ringing in my left ear

My sister once threatened me with a knife but the whole time I worried she’d hurt herself

It was never a possibility she’d hurt me except by dying

Here is the shift where all poems shift 

Where there’s a leaping connection to something else

What’s she touching a stretcher 

Every time I’ve watched Invasion of the Body Snatchers I’ve fallen asleep

All of the times I’ve acted without agency

As though I didn’t trust my own gut in my own body

Something about fairy tales and expectations

The ugliest thing is a gun

Not the city inside you

Or a chair that laughs

Sometimes I pretend the Wall Street guys are talking poetry


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