Head-shot

Head-shot

Head-shot

It didn’t hurt a bit, in fact
I felt ecstatic. I could see the bullet,
bright as a star. I could trace
its parabola over the field,
like fishing wire, a pencil line
drawn on paper.

I was, for a moment, a visionary.
I stilled the mayhem, the wind, the rain.
The bullet flew right through my head.
I went down like a sack of spuds,
s-at on my arse in the shit.

I saw each of my friends
come and look at me.
Some were frightened
and some were full of life.
One held my face and kissed me.

I was far away, I thought of no one.
I was the only living thing in the universe,
and giddy with it all, godlike.
I’d do it again, and again. Yes.
Shoot me again. Oh shoot me again.