Winter 2017 — THE POTOMAC

An Ode to the Second Amendment

Bruce J. Berger

The furniture's formed a hill she can climb
To reach what she covets the most
The attractive object has been left on the mantel
Just out of reach, or so her mom hopes,
But children will always investigate
Curious natures will never deflate.

So she moves herself up the shaky pile
And strains 'til her fingers taste metal
She pulls to the edge with a smile
The gun that will kill her, so special.

"We left It untended only one
Minute," the pitiful parents contend.
The sheriff agrees, "It's a damn shame," he says,
"But mishaps can lead to anyone's end.
No charges to file; they've not misbehaved."
As the young girl is laid in her grave.

What will they tell the new baby some day
Of the sister with whom he'll not play?
That she died in the service of a wonderful cause —
The right to bear arms at all costs.


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