Cold And Lazy Guns Poem by Norman F. Santos

Reloading empty clips
To these cold and lazy guns
Glistening in their lips
A shabby maladroit trance
Locking the crosshairs
Likes ropes to throttle
But every time, you’ll move the chair
And leave me dangling by the carousel
Two cold lazy guns
Two hasty angry bullets
One last futile chance
I fumble as you pirouette
When I pull the trigger
With vitriol from your words of faith
And we shook the hands of the harbinger
And I would find out too late
That there is but one lazy gun
Stern with a deluded mission
And one cold solitary man
Flimsy with fantasies in erosion.