[twisted justice for a twisted world]
The Spirit of Betsy Gladness
Meet Betsy Gladness’s favorite Gun
whose bullet spirits grow restless
wrapped in gunpowder
REEKing of talcum
brushed onto their metallic coats.
Kill---kill---kill – roars the Gun. Don’t shoot! -the bullets say and the Gun replies, mournfully-
You…all… weigh…me …
Whatisanartist if she cannot add
splashes of paint to herblastedcanvas-
what is a doctor if she cannot listento yourheartwith her silverstethoscope-
what is a gun if she can never shoot her bulletsinto a humanback-as if
nothing more than animal?
The bullets ask.
-That gun, My dear, dear bullets,
is an - oppressed -gun
Betsy Gladness’s hardware wasn’t always so angry-
and neither was she