(x = space)

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Future Perfect

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What is that, Father?

The child asks,

Pointing

Like accusation

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That is a gun, the

Father says

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Over the mantel

Perched

By law

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But, observes the child,

It’s falling apart;

I can barely tell the shape

Of it

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Yes,

Father replies,

And that is the way

Of all guns now,

Now that we’ve grown

To take

Care of each other

And put the guns

Aside

And, as we have,

Reminders

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Later in the day,

Mother enters

And has news

From work:

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The assembly made the choice

At last

To take them down,

To put up other tokens,

Totems, symbols,

What have you

What have us

Instead

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And so

The gun is taken down,

Parts swept off the mantel

And

For a while

The peaceful emptiness there

Pervades

While the family

Talks

About what to put there next

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C L Couch

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Photo by Patrick Metzdorf on Unsplash

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