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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