Empty the Armories or Empty the Arteries
By Steven L Herring

The gun in my hand
is warm and bright
Rectangular box filled with evil
to light up the dark night

Mourning in glory
My ansible
to reach across the stars
telling even strangers my troubles
through the dim light of parked cars

I'm all thumbs on the trigger
but the cartridges are cocked and locked
Hovering over a pseudo-nuclear option
and the guilt gives way;
brain blocked

Come, clarity!
Soothe the savage beast in me
I don't level playing fields
I'm the creator of craters,
Blowing holes where love used to be

Carpenter of caverns
Lying just beneath the surface
Empty
The best thing
that ever happened was when I
dropped the magazine to the street
and made the chamber safe
Easy!

And now for my next trick,....