Where is your power?
“Here,
It’s right here,”
You say, with your hands in your pockets, remembering how your mother used to say,
“Walk with a straight back! What’s wrong with you?”
As she washed the dishes with her two good hands
As your father sunk into the couch where he would shout obscenities at the television screen for three hours
Something about hockey teams (a crisis)
As your mother washed the dishes with a straight back.
Your mouth burns
from all the cavities
Sugar venom in the business end of the gun,
The gunslinger aims with his good hand.
Hits.
Boom.
Where is your power?
“Here,
“It’s right here.”
Bang.