By Clif Mason
In the cemetery of night,
the weeping spreads
briars
and brambles.
What does an assault weapon bullet
do to a child’s body?
What must we give up to count
the entry wounds?
Earth holds their bodies.
She will treat them
with the kindness
she offers all of the dead,
the kindness that asks them
to drink from the stars’ chalice
the black anodyne of sleep.
In the cemetery of stars,
the bodies spread
their black brambles and briars.
What do entry wounds do
to the earth?
What must we give up
for the dead to count?
Weeping holds the bodies
and offers to treat them
with the black anodyne
of kindness.
A child asks to drink
from night’s empty chalice.
What does the weeping do
to bodies?
What must we give up
for the entry wounds
to count
the brambles and briars?
The black anodyne of weeping
holds the earth
and the cemetery offers to treat
the stars
with the kindness
only a child’s body can know.
Sleeping assault weapon bullets
spill from a black chalice
and night
asks all of the living to drink.
About the Author
Clif Mason’s poems have appeared in numerous magazines, including Evergreen Review, Southern Poetry Review, New Millennium Writings, The New Guard, and Orbis. His work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and he has been the recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award to Rwanda, Africa.
Bullets into Bells 