The smartphone footage pours in: a barrage of rounds,
a faster tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap
than some seconds before [has the gunman scooped up
another of his remaining weapons? {One of how many
in that room, from the car, from the houses, purchased
from over how many years? The numbers change
every day, don’t they?} Another loaded, waiting rifle,
another caliber, accounting for the differing report
of rounds echoing off the concrete and glass?] takes me
back to a childhood sound I once caused riding my bike
down a sidewalk with a stick in my hand, the tip of it
snapping across the perfect little white picket fence
of an old man I’d see sitting on his big front porch,
who’d wave sometimes, or sometimes not, or
smile sometimes, sometimes not, who frowned once,
I remember, when I caused that sound, that quick tapping,
that pitched tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, the many saying nothing,
whose quiet, telling frown left with me a terrible dread.
Read More:
The mystery of Stephen Paddock – gambler, real estate investor, mass killer [Los Angeles Times]
Nine Per Second [Poets Reading the News]
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found or is forthcoming in more than ninety publications including The Still Journal, Poetry South, Tower Poetry Society, Mad River Review, Spillway, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Press, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia and the poetry books, Voice Hunting and Memory Train, as well as the forthcoming, Drifting in Awe. He’s presently working on his MFA in both poetry and fiction.
Photo by Alisa Mulder.
