You Will Fall, American Boy

 

You will fall,
American boy

with a gun
in your hand
and a father
on your back
and a mummy
in your tummy.

 

For hundreds of years
in a million drawers
you hide this extension,
but still you show
your other ones

-your car-

-your TV set-

-your house-

-your spouse-

 

We know

it is a gun culture
you carry heavy on your shoulders,
forty-four states
by your side,
we know
it has to be.

 

But in the drawers

dark water is boiling metal
lurking,
dictating
to your cerebellum:

 kill

kill

kill,

American boy,

just anybody.

 

We know,

this is your masculinity,
it is no pusillanimous act
you want to be
everything your ancestors have been.
 

And then the moment comes

in a place you loved
in a place that betrayed you
it is not them
-We know-
it is a smell
in the air
deep in your nostrils.

It is the mummy
tearing your tummy apart,
coming out
to face you.
It is the Aztec mummy
you are so scared of,
-we know-
but you will obey.

It will happen fast.

You will kill one
then another
and another
and another
then a child
then a mother
and another
then the ether
then your oxygen
then your brother.

 

You will open your eyes

suffocating
with the gun
aiming
between them.
 

A red look

from this fearsome extension.
A quick look.

 

It is the moment
that you will fall.

 

And then you will rise.

 

-We know-

But we don’t understand.