Buckshot

Tethered as you have to be

to provenance –

to roots you can’t deny supply you

with the whole of what contrives you –

how strange to find you’re stunned

by what you are.

Knowing you’ve been gunned

like buckshot from some ancient

vast exploding star

explains exactly nothing of the reverie

you’ve now become.

Best, if you are asked about it,

to play dumb.








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