Sharpshooter Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

I found bullets in a room
among his jam jars filled
with nails and screws
bullets nested in clips of five
a litter of steely snouts
and I wondered
in that dusty gloom
what you saw, Soldier
eye slits over
summer field, insect
and clover brimmed
or if you heard pregnant drops
of hard hitting rain
drops that go tick tock
soldier, don't think twice
you feed one in,
let the barrel choose
the quick worm
that brings a mother's pain
and dread, in the attic
of another house
somewhere there is
an old desk drawer
a felled-leaf letter that shouts
he's dead! he's dead!