Guns are a Social Glue

the self-soothing white sticky
we wipe our hands of 
only to dry, so we may peel it
off in one long strip, revealing
our uniquely ugly palm. Sunday

schooled, white washed
hodgepodged coated strips of
that morning’s news. Covering the 
carbon dioxide-filled whale bowel 
blocker so we may be taught “Where is the Earth’s
green, and where is her blue?” Cement,

made of rubber trees, whipped and putrid.  
Such social glues are psychiatric 
symptoms of a poor attachment style 
to our common Mother 

Earth, and learnt perspectives of power, 
permanent and monumental, 
normalizing traditions, of what 
all the mes & wes did 
to all the yous.

first published in Headline Poetry & Press

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