HandCannon

In June came the locust men

crushing heads

and putting flame

to the innocent.

I sought the god of war in the desert

under the gravid, red moon.

I kissed his calloused hands

‘til he blessed me

filling my pockets with stones

hollow,

like the eyes of zealots

who want to wear my skin.

He taught my hand to steady

He taught my eye to aim.

When the time came

I shook everywhere

except for one finger.

***

Brittany Meador is an emerging voice of the American Southwest. She is a spoken word poet, amateur lexicographer, and family shelter volunteer who helps children discover themselves through stories. She’s published in the winter edition of the Sixfold Literary Journal, the Hash Journal, and the “Choose to Challenge” Anthology, among others.