Letting your children join the armed forces,
you might as well hold the hunting rifle yourself,
shove them off into the woods
while you chase after their memories
pumping round after blind round
practically sawing trees in half
and if even you hit one you couldn’t
hear a scream from that far away
and like when you did all your shopping
at discount department store chains
you’d pick a designated rendezvous point
so when whoever makes it out alive
comes back you can say,
Oh, thank God . . . I missed you.
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