Bullet Holes in My Family Photos
A poem about how gun violence intersects with domestic violence
Bullet holes in my family photos
Blur out the faces of people I long to forget
People who mean nothing to me
But pain and suffering
Bullet holes that could have appeared in me
Thank god they only marred a picture frame
Nothing more than a metaphor of fatherly love
Like doing nothing when brother pointed a gun at me
Bullet holes in my memories
Every day reminders from my PTSD
Of my fear of dying in the living room
Like so many others have
Bullet holes that could have appeared in me
A paradox when I wished it had hit me
To balance out my hatred for a life of suffering
Am I lucky or unlucky to be alive?
Bullet holes in the body cams
Like when brother shot himself
Surrounded by liquor bottles and weed
Fetal on a bloodstained white carpet
Bullet holes that could have appeared in me
Like when his girlfriend confessed that father told him
To keep the tons of guns loaded
In case mommy and me went back in that apartment
