We’ll Catch the Next One: Poetry D.A. Lucas


We’ll Catch the Next One:

a ghost and a gun
meet again to talk
before catching their trains
away to some oblivion.

the gun cackles out the wide
open hole of its mouth
about power, responsibility, security-
then a couple asides about
propriety and tyranny

until spent, then
tucks its thoughts away
in the echoes of unloaded,
empty-shelled rhetoric.

the ghost just snickers in response,
about silence, karmic ash,
and about how uninterested it is
in anything anymore,
except its oneness
with nothing.

all the while we listen,
-missing our trains to somewhere
important, but we’ll catch the next one-
our faces buried
in our phones, with passing
horror, mourning the quaint
calm we’ll never get back,
and then we’re quiet,
somewhat content in
our muffled rage;
the nourishment of apathy.


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