Tuesday
In hushed tones, we speak the unspeakable:
his one son, his only child,
dead suddenly at seventeen.
Only last Friday, he was introduced
around, smiling, healthy,
a fine young man.
The family loved guns.
He could strip and clean the rifle in minutes.
A closed casket service, Friday at two.
his one son, his only child,
dead suddenly at seventeen.
Only last Friday, he was introduced
around, smiling, healthy,
a fine young man.
The family loved guns.
He could strip and clean the rifle in minutes.
A closed casket service, Friday at two.
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Author's Note
#23 for Napomo 15
Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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Damn! *
clean and deadly good.
'nough said.*
**
Holy shit.*
Whoa. Awful and wonderful. *
Will remember this for a long time. *
*, Gary. This is powerful, sad and jars us into a recognition of a frequent result. A Fine, thoughtful poem.
Absolute sucker-punch. *
I am grateful for the generous responses, everyone.