saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal, lead

follow gunfire with thunderous rain. water forcing its self inside all the hard and soft things until its alarm sound explodes. drops splash puddles hard enough to make new drops arch and broaden in roar.

follow light flashes from pistol barrels by pre-petrichor silence. quiet — asking every question no one can answer just now. life absorbed from all the living things near enough to know. things inside the side walk.

gunshots recall privilege with immediacy that lifts history and mistold narratives up for auction. every snapshot memory of a gun becomes upfront and forcefully hot. living bodies, equally alert and immobile.

waking up to gunfire makes a house a prison i am better off inside of. chained and motivated by fear, in tandem. peaking through slats to find breathing — or — breathless.

follow gunfire with a hug to share everything i ever loved as a child and now. with every bit of privilege i largely didn’t earn. with a hope for breath and love and debilitating rust.

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