Eric Simmons

One Shot

The cocking of a gun
Cold and mechanic
Goes unheard
Before the shot

The wind stops
Like a man’s
Last breath
On the deathbed of his choosing

Crows shriek
But then go quiet
Seeing that they can’t shatter
The silence of near death

Sound does not recover
So easily
Hours pass by in this shade of sound
Yet silence is no evil

Silence heals
Silence and time
Hand and hand
Can do anything





[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2009 EDITION]


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.