Warped

I love guns (he said)!
Washington said (he said),
‘Guns are second only to the Constitution in importance;
they are the people’s liberty’s teeth.’
Teeth have no feeling (I said).
Yes, I suppose guns are like teeth. Not really necessary, either.
The misquoting He was not amused.

And I pondered.

Guns—
like greed, poverty, pestilence,
violence to women and children—
form part of the Great Tapestry.
The first weapon-threads,
were embedded so deeply,
so early
(surely warped, not weft?)
ancient weavers remember not their origins.
No way to unpick the fine wools now,
though present weavers try.
With magnifying glass held in hopeful hands,
they stand at the feet of history
and look in vain.
Behind the artisans the gun-lovers crouch—
nicking needles
stealing scissors
taking tufts—
distracting the peace lovers from their task.

They are all too close to the hanging.

From a distance
I laugh, sadly.
For it’s easy to see
what violence has been done to the Tapestry.
I look not at the grass roots, but higher up.
See, up there?
Areas of grayed, frayed wool
(inferior stuff)
mar the precious pattern; they
grin ghostly
sneer sickly
from the red-lipped mouths of history’s generals;
their tombstone teeth,
once woven in gently by duped women
stooped in sorrow,
are hidden now, in a place too lofty
for the searching soldiers at their feet.

Bountiful, Utah
February 17, 2013

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