Salinas Valley, 1932
by Andrea M. Newton
The barrel cold like ice upon your skull,
the smell of powder burnt into the tip.
And pulling back the trigger bit by bit,
the hand that once had calmed you in your sleep.
The dog they took behind the barn and shot
for mercy — age had made him blind and weak.
In pain. They put him safe from misery.
But you they want to hang for justice's sake,
for something that you didn't mean to do.
George said to hide -- the river would be safe,
and he would come and get you when they'd gone.
Take you where the things were always soft,
like puppies, mice, and girls with yellow hair.
The barrel cold like ice upon your skull,
the bullet hot, the darkness soft and warm.