You’d never held a gun before,
the percussion ricocheting
throughout the bones in your skull.
And the sag of your smile, the dismay, as you realize
you will never attain that level of proficiency. Even a single bull’s-
eye would astonish you.
But never mind all of that. Return
to your tenement, lean back in your recliner,
stare at the water stain spreading
on your ceiling, and see the constellation materializing in the sky.
Originally published by Litbreak Magazine.
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