Overcoming a Fear of Firearms
invisible things that will render me beatific
The stupidest day of the year is the day
after St. Patrick’s. The light has
gone out of my life, O wise cashier
that sees into the future. You know I will
inevitably purchase all the ingredients
for a fine roast. You are already bagging
invisible things that will render me beatific
in a day or two, though I have forgotten
all of my principles and what currency
is used for. Money burns a hole through
the projector screen of the night. A strange
sound begins to emanate from the woods.
I knew what tasks lay ahead of me,
but I was reluctant to accomplish them.
I didn’t want to shoot anyone. My gun
from the first act only shot water.
A fine white dust began to settle
on top of the town. The steeple
was buried first. We were a godless people
but an army of missionaries was on their way,
bringing us finely woven blankets
and bottles of pinkish wine.
Sebastian Hunter is a writer and musician from Seattle. He makes maps for a living and reads books in his spare time. He is published or forthcoming in Bombfire Lit, Boats Against the Current, and Roi Fainéant.
