by W. Barrett Munn
Jesus Christ
thought he was God; a governor
washed his hands;
A governor proclaims
murder a problem of mental health;
did another governor just wash his hands?
Uncle Bryson
spent his life in mental health confinement;
he didn't kill anyone, so
why was he there? Uncle Bryson
never owned a rifle, never knew
a bullet from a bassoon, but a risk nonetheless,
mental health, it’s not a guess, it’s a problem—
we can be more than certain
of crazies stalking the horizon, the mentally ill,
ready to kill, spree shooters who will
surely shoot lots of someones somewhere sometime soon.
Shooters are, we can trust, only problems of mental health.
We better all go out and buy another gun.
washed his hands;
A governor proclaims
murder a problem of mental health;
did another governor just wash his hands?
Uncle Bryson
spent his life in mental health confinement;
he didn't kill anyone, so
why was he there? Uncle Bryson
never owned a rifle, never knew
a bullet from a bassoon, but a risk nonetheless,
mental health, it’s not a guess, it’s a problem—
we can be more than certain
of crazies stalking the horizon, the mentally ill,
ready to kill, spree shooters who will
surely shoot lots of someones somewhere sometime soon.
Shooters are, we can trust, only problems of mental health.
We better all go out and buy another gun.
W. Barrett Munn is a graduate of The Institute of Children's Literature and studied with Larry Callen. His poetry has appeared in The New Verse News, The Awakenings Project, Kairos Literary Magazine, Copperfield Review Quarterly, Speckled Trout, and many others.