I. The Assassin
Smoke and dust
suck oxygen
from his puny lungs
as he rises on an
ancient freight elevator
At the warehouse window,
he assumes a darker mask,
his bony finger
tracing the trigger's curve,
his beady eyes narrowing in
on the slow moving target:
that famous sculpted
head of state
so perfect
in the plaza light
Finally he will plummet -
a bruised puppet
slipping through
a surreal night,
a phantom of smoke and dust
blinking in the glare
of a Dallas lineup
II. The First Lady
Her deep whispery voice
unspools a reel of film:
crowds, blinding sun,
a promise of shade
in the distance,
then a sudden odd quizzical look
on her husband's face
She recalls that moment
of slow motion shock:
that serrated piece of his skull
floating lazily
in a blur
toward
her
bright
pink
lap
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
I. The Assassin
Smoke and dust
suck oxygen
from his puny lungs
as he rises on an
ancient freight elevator
At the warehouse window,
he assumes a darker mask,
his bony finger
tracing the trigger's curve,
his beady eyes narrowing in
on the slow moving target:
that famous sculpted
head of state
so perfect
in the plaza light
Finally he will plummet -
a bruised puppet
slipping through
a surreal night,
a phantom of smoke and dust
blinking in the glare
of a Dallas lineup
II. The First Lady
Her deep whispery voice
unspools a reel of film:
crowds, blinding sun,
a promise of shade
in the distance,
then a sudden odd quizzical look
on her husband's face
She recalls that moment
of slow motion shock:
that serrated piece of his skull
floating lazily
in a blur
toward
her
bright
pink
lap