By Bullet

 

Karen Leona Anderson

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By bullet. By violet.

By pivot and by jewelweed.

By pull back and cock,

 

by spitshine and grip–

by touch-me-not–

 

By release of what

tore me, by sinter 

and flux, pinch

 

and twitch, powder and

pour.  By a door in the

throat.  By fire

 

and coil, by shatter

and smash, crash

and choke, even 

 

hit, even rip,

even skid in, accidental,

it’s all  better than,

 

better than what,

the slowness of someone 

making holes in my chest,

 

their cautery, bloody ripped-up-me–

It hurts like a ghost.

Can’t cast myself 

 

that far away anyway.

Can’t aim, can’t hit, can’t 

save me today,  so I say

 

this is different, 

my fury, it’s to seed

not to kill, my

 

weakness and my

best face that my

bullets are lost,

are meant to find dirt.

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