They arent even trying anymore.

an active shooter was reported on a college campus a few days ago.

there was no weapon. there were no deaths.

there was a video made by the local news.

manic screams like sirens through a classroom of tumbled desks barricading the door

while young men and women clinch their phones,

thumbs like bullets firing on the screen

a tying of the note home to the foot of the bunkers last pigeon.

text messages scrolled across the bottom.

“we are still alive. we love you very much.”

there was no weapon. there were no deaths.

this is how they like us,

arms flaring and scampering for our lives

we tend to not ask questions in chaotic times.

we hold one another closer when we get home from work and turn on the 5 o’clock news.

the back of our minds clogged

Columbine, Charleston, our daughters dying in our arms

on family movie weekend outings.

there was no weapon. there were no deaths.

there was a boy

who needed someone to listen.

when someone picked up, they called the police.

now his face is peppered

across television screens and timelines

and handouts for mental illness.

he did nothing but reach out.

he has never been more ignored.

the memory of his face will cloud from overload of filtered photos

of old buildings on campus

scripture verses

and page long posts on how to put yourself back together in this time of need.

there was no weapon. there were no deaths.

there were headlines in the paper

and a 2000 lb desk that caressed the glow from the stagelight

upon fake tits, double Windsor knotted ties, and bleached teeth

gnawing to smile

as slop poured from their mouths by the trenchful.

we gorge ourselves in the morning

and before bed

and while taking a s**t.

i am full from gargling gruel.

i think i’ll relieve myself

and wipe my a*s with the newspaper page headlined

THERE WAS NO WEAPON. THERE WERE NO DEATHS.

at least not in this story

i pondered as the toilet bowl drained.