one of the firing squad
in my head I've got her
tied to a post, blindfolded
and I stand, a perfectly fair
ten meters off, with a rifle
loaded full of my poems,
and I fire away at her.

when it started, she
seemed really scared,
even crying a little,
but now, I've missed her
so many damn times that she
is laughing herself silly
and I am starting to worry

that the post may finally
shake itself free
of the ground
before I get around
to loading up the one
that will do her in.

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