Weekly Poetry: HOW MANY SHOTS NEED TO BE FIRED
out of the dark water
comes a gun. a gun I did not see
but heard less then 15 feet away
from me.
and a story falls out of the mirror.
lands in broken shards of what really
happened.
and here is what the broken shards
and the dark water sing…
Colfax Ave, and Logan St..
Summer, curl your fingers around my hair.
let my hand sling around your waist.
past festivals and music played in Denver,
in Civic Center Park,
to the bus stop,
at Colfax and Logan.
the weather is perfect,
night upon all, waiting at the bus stop,
when a shot cries out, there amidst all,
a single shot fired…