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An Army of One (poem)

By Larry Kerschner

Do you hear the dead complaining?
Killing is easy –
it don't mean shit.

What's that look for?

You think I should be touched by
the death of mother/brother/son/daughter/uncle/father/child?

The only touch I feel is
the half ounce of pressure on the trigger –
then
I get to be
all I can be.

—Larry Kerschner