Pulse — Megan Falley
It’s like killing someone for dancing,
or for praying, or for being a child—which I guess
this world also does now—while a love note in a locker
turns death threat. While a boy leaves the closet
only to lock himself in the river.
And now, even pride feels like a casket.
And now, the rainbow bleeds out.
And now, I see a man buy a rifle at Walmart and I don’t know
whether to hold my love’s hand tighter
or to let it go.
I watch my love from the crack of the rest stop stall.
I know what a haircut like theirs can launch
in a town with this much belief
in god.
So we walk back to the car like siblings
where nothing can kill us
but the news on the radio.
