by Peter Witt
A mother in Black Creek, GA
drops her child off at school,
heads to the AR-15 assembly line
at Daniel Defense, where guns
coming off the assembly line
are packed by a father of three,
two in college, one still in high school.
A young woman, barely out
of high school processes online
orders for the killing machines
from gun stores across the U.S.,
trying not to think about if one
will end up in the hands of an 18
year old with murderous intent.
The owner of a Uvalde gun store
remembers legally selling the semi-
automatic weapon of mass destruction
to a young man who'd just turned 18,
then heading home for a birthday party
for his elementary school-aged niece.
A host of people, some with children,
have their fingerprints on the bullets
that made their way into the hands
of the Uvalde shooter, never realizing
they'd touched the bullets
that would shatter bones, blur faces
in a one-hour classroom rampage.
Somewhere in a peaceful office
a NRA publicist cranks out scripts
that pols and apologists can use
when the inevitable questions
about gun safety and control emerge,
he's yet to marry, have children,
doesn't think that children killed
in the sure to be future mass murders
could someday be his offspring.
In a conference room in Black Creek, GA,
the owner of the killing machine company
authorizes another 50K donation to the NRA,
a necessary cost of doing business,
profits from his company putting
his children through college.
Airforce One ferries the president and his wife
to yet another memorial gathering
where he will console parents whose
children never came home from school,
having only recently returned from
a similarly gathering of families
recovering from the hatred of a racist
who shot up a supermarket in their town.
At dinner tables around the country
families gather over traditional
Memorial Day hot dogs and hamburgers,
some with thoughts and prayers,
others to have discussions
about the need to own a gun,
protect their families, stave off
the murderous intent of someone
who purchased a gun made, shipped,
sold by fellow citizens, many with school
aged children—who firmly believe
the 2nd amendment is God's will
and plan to protect their children
from mayhem...
while somewhere in a bedroom
a young man, not yet 18, dreams of the day
he too can go the local gun store, purchase
an assault weapon made, shipped,
and sold by people with children,
so that he too can join the ranks
of the dead who've created
mayhem in a supposedly safe
classroom somewhere in the U.S.A.
Peter Witt lives in Texas, only a few hours away from Uvalde. His work has appeared in The New Verse News, other online publications, and several print volumes.
