[The dull thud of shots
on a country morning
soothes the aching child in me
(raised on fear
and fist fights,
and headlights
menacing the black walls
of a thousand endless nights).
The fired shot
finds home and finishes:
the struggle stops;
the heart stills.
The sound--
suspended over summer fields
--vanishes.
There is no grim tomorrow,
no hard aftermath:
just a pause that dissipates
and lets the daylight win.]
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