The Pistol

The heft and size and shape provide a thrill,
but even though it’s fun to handle one,
the function of the pistol is to kill:

to stop, to plug, to perforate, to drill;
to keep the peace, intimidate, to stun.
Its heft and size and shape give me a thrill;

the scent of oil, the cold, hard snout, the shrill
metallic taste make clear, when all is done,
the purpose of a pistol.  Live to kill

and kill to live, and know that I can fill
another man with lead and never run.
Its heft and size and shape give me a thrill,

this instrument and focus of my will,
my blunt and single-minded friend, my gun;
the function of a pistol is to kill.

Be straight, be strong, be-like-a-rock, be still
my rod, my piece, my Glock, my-will-be-done:
your heft and size and weight give me a thrill.
The purpose of my pistol is to kill.

Michael Cantor

If you've any comments on this poem, Michael Cantor would be pleased to hear from you.

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