Cold Hard Metal
June 13 2023
I've never fired a gun.
Never even held one.
Never felt
its cold hard metal
lethal weight.
The touch of the trigger
on a clammy finger
itching to be squeezed.
But I have been told
how pleasurable it is.
The heft
sound
kick,
target zeroed-in;
the beauty
in its spare functionality
precisely milled parts
tightly coupled action.
The power of a god
to change a life
in one decisive instant,
force multiplied
action at a distance.
The glint of a gun
like a warning shot.
And the man who carries it
like some petty god,
who believes himself immortal
but sadly is not.
While I was saving an article about the threat of right wing violence among Trump supporters – his avid followers, acolytes, believers, devotees, cultists, careerists, and opportunists – I glanced at the photo that accompanied the piece (see above). The moment I saw it, a podcast I recently heard came to mind and this poem immediately started to write itself.
In the podcast, an anti-gun person like me visited a shooting range and realized how truly enjoyable guns are. Who not only began to appreciate their appeal, but wanted to do it again!
I find nothing hypocritical in this: you can be a gun owner and still believe in sensible gun control!
(https://www.theatlantic.com/newsletters/archive/2023/06/trump-higgins-biggs-lake-violence/674380/)
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