Published in The Colorado Independent
Poetry Lesson After the Las Vegas Shooting
by Elizabeth Oxley
Do not write the word heart.
Like every overused word,
its meaning has bled out,
the way snowflake, repeated,
dissolves into sound.
And thoughts becomes nothing
but the tongue thudding
against teeth,
and prayers, a puff
of air that vanishes.
What you want is new language.
To say that someone
looks different from you,
say beautiful.
When you want to convey
anger, try saying mercy.
When you ask What now?,
say something that’s never
been said.
If you must speak a word
to death, make it
gun gun gun gun gun.