Treasure Island

Charles Monroe

To Hold the Heat

A responsibility I've been cursed to keep
Since all my big homeys are parolees
On probation or known felons
And I have no police record yet
And am only thirteen
I am expected by my fellow gang members
To forever hold the heat.
And I hold it like its golden
Like our lives depended on it.
And I hold it like it's stolen
Like there's countless murders on it.
And I hold it locked and loaded
Cocked and potent and concealed.
Even though it's very presence
Will add decades to my sentence
I must carry heat and hold it
From the buckle to the scrotum
Hoping none of us will lose it
And I won't be forced to use it
Banging louder than the music
Like a drum-roll off the snare
Either wired or acoustic;
Hope nobody likes to stare.
Hope our enemies don't show,
I pretend to play the part
Of a fool who doesn't mind
Putting led through someone's heart.
And I smile amongst the gangsters
In my dark blue baggy jeans
I'm the designated shooter
And I barely turned thirteen;
I been cursed to hold the heat.

Submitted: Sunday, July 20, 2014

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Topic(s): love and pain

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

7.20.14 Inspired by the poem 'Dropping the Heat' by Conner Whyte

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