Red Crayons

Hands 

 

holding hands in a nervous embrace

 

Hands 

 

holding hands in a last prayer to god

 

Hands 

 

holding limbs, pressing tight, holding dear

 

Hands 

 

holding hope, hoping holding will help 

 

Hands 

 

holding life, holding warmth, holding back 

 

BANG 

Go the shoes slamming onto the floor 

 

BANG

Go the fists pounding on classroom doors

 

BANG

Goes the window, we watch glass shards fly 

 

BANG

Goes the lock, while we’re locked up inside 

 

BANG

By his hand, we are going to die

 

BANG

Clasp our hands as we whisper goodbye

 

Goodbye

 

Mom—and your cookies, on cold, gloomy days 

 

Goodbye

 

Dad—please for me, don’t stop playing guitar

 

Goodbye

 

Nana, Papa—thanks for all the birthday cards 

 

BANG

Goes the gun in his pale, veiny hands 

 

BANG 

Goes the heart, caged within mangled ribs 

 

BANG

I can’t breathe, I can’t feel my own fingers 

 

BANG

I will never have another birthday card

 

BANG

No more rainy day chocolate-chip cookies 

 

BANG 

I have heard my last song on guitar 

 

BANG

I will never—not ever—find love

 

BANG

I will never—not ever—have kids 

 

BANG

What’s it like to be holding your baby? 

 

BANG

What’s it like—your poor baby girl drowning?

 

Drowning in blood, because he bought a gun? 

 

Stole bullets, stole lives

 

burned up the bloody bodies of his barely friends at all 

 

BANG

I see darkness

 

BANG

Goodbye Mom—I love you 

 

BANG

I feel numbness 

 

BANG

Goodbye Dad—I’m sorry 

 

BANG, BANG, BANG

So this is death?

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