Song of What Happens

If I wrote in a short story

Or novel that when my father

Was young, about thirteen,

He and his best friend

Stole a rifle from the car trunk

Of a man who worked

For his family, then took

Paper plates from the kitchen

And went out to a field,

Intending to toss them

Into the air and shoot them . . .

That there’d been an accident

And he killed his best friend.

Sad, but believable—it happens

More often than you’d imagine

In the country.

But then I add:

My dad grew up, married,

Had four sons, gave each

Of the two oldest

Shotguns when they were

Twelve and ten

So they could all hunt pheasants.

And when I turned twelve,

He gave me a rifle—a .22.

And that same year

We went hunting deer

In a far field on our property

And my gun, that I didn’t know

Was loaded, went off

And killed my younger brother

Who was standing beside me.

Two boys, my father and I,

Barely in their teens,

Killing two others they loved

By accident—that kind

Of coincidence isn’t credible

In fiction, much less in a poem

Where you’re not allowed

To describe too much

Or explain, or ascribe motives

Because each word is precious

And the fewer you use

The better the poem.

And yet,

I’m telling you it’s true,

It really happened.

All of us

Can see the pattern here—

Two young boys kill

Someone they love

By accident.

But do you

Think God planned it?

And if so, why?

Do you think my father

Unconsciously arranged

A repetition, hoping

It would end differently?

I’m happy for you if you

Can explain it

To your satisfaction.

I can’t.

I’m only telling you

About it, because

It’s factual; it happened.

And because I want you to know

How strange life is.