When you watch something alive get shot
In the head
Where the third eye would be
The gateway to the spiritual realm, so they say
You see the gate knocked off its hinges
It becomes quickly and jarringly clear
That this was never just wood slats
Sandwiched between fenceposts
Grown over with ivy in someone’s backyard
It is a floodgate, a levee
And once the water starts climbing the banks
There is no putting the horses back into the stable
The blood is insistent, demanding for somewhere to go
And that freshly minted hole cannot handle the volume
It’s opening night and the staff can’t keep up
The kitchen is sinking
Shit, we’re in the weeds
The patrons are storming back out the front door
In search of immediate accommodation
They get what they want, there are options nearby
Cavernous spaces that acquiesce to their needs
The mouth becomes a waterfall
The nose a babbling brook
At the start of spring when the rains fall hard and heavy
But time passes quickly in seconds and seasons
No sooner have you accepted the flood
Than summer comes, drought begins
The wells and the waterfalls
Begin to run dry