The Gun

This day there seems
Small concept
Of the chemistry,
The way a meme
Can invade a dream,
Distort its centrality,
Dye, infect, englobe
Discrete components
To its design,
Forge from diversity
A dire unity.

The gun is,
In simplicity,
An engine of
Internal combustion
That dispatches
Its free piston
On death’s mission.
But its meme
Is digital --
Death’s finger
To annihilate
Its designate,
A pointer on the hand
To eliminate on demand.

This metal flesh
Once joined at arm’s length
Infects the mind
With an evil strength.

An object
Can contain an idea.
The Bible is an object.
The U.S. constitution
Is an object.
A gun
Is an object.

That boy
Who murdered, maimed
Other kids at school
Was not a boy
With a lethal toy
Was not a boy
With a gun.

That was a gun
With a boy.

© Jan Sand