Zanne Langlois

Zanne Langlois Poems

A gun has 26 working parts-
The length of the barrel, the speed of the bullet,
And caliber of the ammunition determines lethality.
There are 6 chambers in the cylinder.
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The Best Poem Of Zanne Langlois

Chambers Of A Gun

A gun has 26 working parts-
The length of the barrel, the speed of the bullet,
And caliber of the ammunition determines lethality.
There are 6 chambers in the cylinder.
When cocked, the hammer clicks, as it locks into place.
The trigger requires a precise amount of pressure to fire.
The target errupts, as the bullet forces entry,
Opening a door that cannot be closed.
An act that cannot be undone.
A school shooting has countless working parts.
The lengths at which the shooter will go to force entry.
The speed of the response and the calliber of the security system
Determine its lethality.
The first shot triggers a lock-down.
The fire alarm sounds as chaous errupts
And classrooms become as deadly and inescapable
As gas chambers.
The shooter burns through clips of bullets,
Until police, moving with precision, secure the building.
Reopening closed doors, seperating the student body
Into living and dead.
The Senate has 100 working parts.
The size of the majority, the length of their terms,
And the calliber of the lobbyists determine its productivity.
The massacre of school children triggers debate in the chamber.
But while the men and women are dead-locked,
Arguring endlessly behind closed doors,
Two pressure cookers errupt in Boston.
And new images of carnage force entry into out minds.
We barely notice when the Senate body rejects gun control.
The four chambers of a human heart
Are each filled with seperate desires.
For safety, for freedom, for power, for protection.
We are dead-locked. And minds that are closed cannot be re-opened.
But a murdered child has no working parts.
It's body does not function.

The size of the child at the time of its death determines
The length of a coffin.
A coffin is a chamber lined with silk and sorrow.
When the lid clicks shut, it cannot be re-opened.
When will this trigger more than tears?
When will we feel the pressure of small hands
Hammering on the locked doors or our hearts?
As soon as our eyes are dry, we shut them again.

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