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
com­mu­niqué
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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