Overkill Poem by B. V. Dahlen

The cabbage needed chopping,
a job I could not shirk,
And cole slaw would be ready
When Mom got home from work.

The TV set was blaring,
and anchor men intoned.
Oswald would soon be coming.
We heard their numbing drone.

My brothers shouted to me
to hurry to the room.
The knife I held carved flesh instead
and sliced me to the bone.

I wrapped a dish towel tightly
around my wounded hand,
and dashed into the living room
To mutely watch and stand.

We saw Lee Harvey shuffle out
with shackled feet and wrists.
A prison jumpsuit was his garb.
A smirk his lips did twist.

Reporters crowded closer,
Their questions biting fast,
While cameras clicked and flash bulbs flared
And Oswald was rushed past.

Then suddenly a shot rang out.
The captive crumbled fast.
A burly man was grabbed by hands
From many sides and cast

Upon the floor as bedlam reigned
Within that crowded hall.
Jack Ruby’s name shouted then
Above the jumbled brawl.

So time and time again we watched
this murder reoccurred,
And Ruby fired guns until
My senses were quite blurred.

I felt a spreading stickiness
That warmed my rooted feet,
And glancing at my brothers saw
Their faces like a sheet.

A puddle spread around me.
My blood still dropping fast.
I felt no pain nor upset.
My brothers were aghast.

These boy scouts swiftly handled me.
Into the kitchen quick
They raised me to the table and
Performed a mastered trick.

With pressure points they stemmed the tides,
But still that scar reminds
Me of that most horrific day
I left childhood behind.