Newtown’s Law

there are many holes
too wide and deep
to be filled by eyes they
are stepped
around
gingerly of
heels placed
with
pains
taking
care a
blind dance
of
fissured
eyes
averted of
shaking hands
circumscribing the void
piecemeal 
at
this pit of
botched
communique
silent static
and dead children
no one
looks up
while
lead keeps 
falling
from
the 
sky.

Some tragedies are be­yond my scope of em­pa­thy. Some ra­tio­nales ex­ceed my ca­pac­ity to set aside love. If I can’t write about I try to write around, to show the shape of what I can’t de­scribe. This poem could ap­ply to any gun mas­sacre, but to­day it is for Newtown, CT.

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