the children arrived first
on the scene, and seeing them
in impressive numbers sprinting across
the square we thought
they were playing a game
until we heard someone say, a grin playing
across her lips,

“kavon’s been shot!”

digust crushed me thinking
perhaps she savored this moment, anticipating
times she’d get to retell it.
others, smiling similarly, emerged in uneven sudden bursts
from their houses, like puss from popped pimples,
and rushed towards the anguished screams
of those i assume were his loved ones
(but i can’t be sure since i refused
to make a spectacle of sorrow)

but am i any fucking better?
my first thought:

this needs to be a poem.


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