After Firing The Shot Poem by William Conley Lowrance
After Firing The Shot
The dirt beneath the stones is filthy & frantic.
The branch cast on the ground sweats slowly in the grass.
Static radiates from windows with a harsh hum
as cats howl—celebrating my success.
O darling—life here is so winding & cruel.
These sounds in my ears no longer come from my lips.
But I know what I’ve done, with my skin dead & flaking.
I know what I’ve done—with my life so very young.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:01:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
