Plunk

Plunk (12/16)

Let me set Iraq down on the table and refuse to bring it up again
a loaded gun that will never go off

Politics wrap the room in ivy
that will take over our arms and keep us from gesturing

Or maybe it will just sit there jamming itself
become a coin toss that we call wrong

Will it sink into the table-top and leave rings on the linens
it may make everything black and burned in the shape of a finger

Does it point at us or into some vacant space
out the window at the shed where animals could be skinned

Let me just say that I appreciate the sentiment of it and acknowledge
that it exists I hear it humming over here where my knife and fork should be