For Bryan Fischer
who will not walk the lockered halls
unless the teachers start each day
with pleas of children for their lives.
We told him to get lost, you say,
from graduations, football games,
and God now hangs his ounce of care
on our restoring all he claims.
Unless the children beg and pray
he will not stride where not desired,
he will not raise a hand to stay
the executions with a Glock.
Cold void, presence in absence, chambered steel,
Your God was there, I say, blood under heel.
Labels: Fuck This Shit