by Holly Day
three thousand
miles ago you held my hand
while I held a revolver to your crotch and you
said
"Lower the hammer slowly, slowly. Come on!
You've got to
learn gun safety one way or another."
drunk, I managed to do it, once,
twice
and then the next day, straight sober,
I blew a hole
through my couch.
you almost
replaced
all the triggers in my life
brother, father,
lover, best
friend
taught me the scripture of new razor blades
amphetamines
instead of suicide notes.
It all helped.
those voices
you killed have come back to life
possessing the gun buried deep in my
closet
singing crazygirl songs
on insomniac nights--
three
thousand miles ago you patched up my heart
if I went back to you
could
we make these dreams
stop
