A small shiny insect crawled methodically across
the clean, white sheet of paper,
trying to crawl across before I stained it
with my useless words.
So arrogant and determined in his steps.
I am grateful it was not a spider.
So very grateful it was not
you among the dead in Kenya,
in Chicago, in wherever.
said the shotgun to the head*
Have you ever been kissed by God?
A mother loses a son,
a child loses a mother,
a son–a father, a father–a son
kissed by a shotgun, kissed by God.
Guns make holes in people and they die.
said the shotgun to the head
was that kiss so sensual that you fell to your knees?
I am here, following the
steps of the little beetle so very closely
doing what I can to keep you alive.
When we kill, are we the methodical beetle
Or delivering a kiss from God?
* Russell Williams. Lines taken out of context and their order in his original poem.
