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      May 30, 2021Look—Marissa Glover

      The bullet was not meant
      for the boy. It was reflex,
      retaliation, a warning
      of the bad things
      a man might do, can do,
      will do if you make him
      angry enough. The bullet
      was meant for the boy’s mom—
      for being a bad driver, a bad
      woman, one who needs
      to learn some respect.
      Think of the birds
      she could have shot with
      his kind of ammunition.
      But the man missed the mark,
      as people full of rage often do.
      See the bird on the ground,
      slowly picked apart by teeth,
      see the flocks gutted and
      stuffed for cabin walls,
      where they look in flight.
      See all the boys whose tummy
      hurts, see the moms whose fisted
      shirt cannot stop the bleeding.
      See all the moms whose tummy
      is not bleeding but hurting,
      not hurting but empty, not empty
      but empty not empty but empty.
      Like the shell of a bird
      once feathered, once flying
      now hollowed with nothing
      left but an unseeing socket
      in the middle of the street.

      from Poets Respond

      Marissa Glover

      “I can’t stop thinking about Aiden Leos. About his last words, about his mom, about simply driving to school and all the (seemingly insignificant) decisions made along the way. So much of this world makes no sense to me—and this poem kind of has that feeling of senselessness, talking in circles, living in circles, with each character always ending up in the same sad spot. It shouldn’t be this way.”