Danielle Legros Georges’s Poems
song of the gun
my eye
like a sculpture’s.
a recess. a gaping.
my maw. my jaw bone.
and dark
handle. a surprise?
why I do
the things
I do?
gun
is the son of a gun
a gun?
unlike the difference
and distance
between a socialist
and a socialite?
the shine at the end
of the latter
not at all the gist,
the meat
of the former, of
the matter?