The Smoking Gun

The Smoking Gun

A Poem by Floundering About

Have you ever fired a rifle?
You can’t see the bolt
fall back into place.

It twists and slides somehow.

An engineer could tell you
what happens--
you just feel the jolt in your shoulder.

You might see the casing eject.

One day you look into the eyes
fallen back into place:
the jolt.
You search for
evidence: spent casings, powder stains,

anything, but you can’t make a convincing case.

© 2010 Floundering About


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This is a good one. I can't explain why I like it so much, but it is perhaps the best thing I've read all day.

Posted 14 Years Ago



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Added on June 21, 2010
Last Updated on June 21, 2010