My father’s guns, left to me—

Several from the bedroom closet

And one from under the bed:

Shotgun with a flashlight taped

To the barrel to daze the eyes

Of a midnight intruder.

The light my father wielded

He left to me in my midnight.

I unloaded the rifle

And held it in the sunrise.

The dark barrel’s golden gleaming

Shed sparks of filial love.

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