Accidental Firing Poem by Artchil Daug

Gunshots, enveloping,
the second layer of security,
catapulting, wickedness.
Turning the saleslady
to a ghost, a mannequin
imprisoned in
gunshots,
paranoia of death, approaching
in seconds, leaving
in seconds, quick. Outbursts,
woken up through
gunshots.
The world smaller, to a point
in space, time, accident,
the maladies lost,
towers shaken, crumbling,
in the sound of
gunshots.
A second long, nanoseconds
in still frames, slowly creeping
fear, an instant,
time taken, having time,
before life moves on,
forgetting, disrupted by way of
gunshots,
the people soldiers on.