Phil

I keep having this dream.
A short, sharp sound.

 

Click!

 

When I turn, a squat brown boy
jabs a gun in my gut.

 

Click! Click!

 

He swings the butt at my head.
I empty a clip in his face.

 

Bones fly. Chip by chip.
A tooth.

 

Another round of shoot-a-gook.

 

I wake up sweatin’ blood.

 

God forgive us.