I keep a list of names in my chest pocket
and wear it like a bullet-proof vest.
A scroll that writes itself each
time the pigs shout “Hands up!”
Then pull the trigger. It descends
to my feet, lays a path by which
I march toward the Capitol steps
to call for justice. I roll it tighter
The longer it gets. One day it will
be thick enough to block the
Bullets when they shoot. But
when that happens, who truly wins?