Known

I know you knew that it might come to this.

You shared my restless nights, the anger in his eyes.

It was our lot that fateful night to teeter on the edge,

To ponder not the notoriety of our coordinates.

Once more, it was our fate to hum the call of the muezzin.

To dive beneath the sigh of the unknown resolve,
To scan across the will of some discarded box.
They didn't tell me this would be my daily bread!
I couldn't ask you why the years should bear the weight;
It's not my place to know the purpose of my gun.

And yet I heft it with glee, my less-than-lethal gaze
Falls upon his rain of scorn as it glides, with no remorse,
To the trigger finger bent upon the motion that unleashes
Errant thoughts of Scotland, but the primer's job is done,
And a wayward eyeball circumnavigates its socket.

It's green, thank God! Exhale! Inhale!
And forget what lies beyond the line of sight.
Confine it now and then to the realm of our repose.
Behold instead my bloodstained crown in your hands!
And if this balm should fail you, remember my last words.

July 26, 2005