Gyroscope Review 15-1 - Page 51

Marionettes by Steve Klepetar “I am trapped on a desert of raw gunshot wounds” Audre Lorde Somewhere there are dead children whose bodies swim in their own blood, whose faces have been eradicated, whose mouths are nothing but wounds and there are hands with black gloves holding guns, there are voices shouting about insults there is a man holding forth, a man shooting a target until it splinters like a broken land there is rage and sorrow which fogs the air night has become a cloud of sorrow and rage and when the cameras go off, then suffering begins in a new silence that drowns every word you could say or dream, that threatens mothers with madness fathers with a silence terrible as the deep, heavy pit where torn bodies are laid again and again, mangled a broken pile of marionettes, limbs tangled in awful sleep Gyroscope Review 50 !