on a verdant
weeping lawn
i wept as he wept
on his knees,
my gun in his face.
i
told him
not to hurt what
he had
or i'd make it
so no one would see his face again-
i'd be the last.
i left
him there
and never returned.
Again, thank you so much, Jason, for the poem, the inspiration it provided me to do the pics, and for permission to quote the poem in full here.
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