My Father Hears Breaking Glass

pops a clip into his handgun presses both ears to the door left hand taut upon the handle waits... bursts out into darkness street lamps distant spins like cops stroboscopic precision one pound steel held high two mammoth hands sight lowered, aimed, trigger finger gun dog stiff... two tiny culprits run leaving smashed Christmas bulbs in the street he pulls back grudgingly too bad, he says, ìtomorrow, we take our lights down. [a prior version of this poem was published in ChangeLinks many years ago] © 1993, [...]