[                                        ]

what was left to admire
                    meaningless as jangled

keys          a muscle twitching
aimless                              but alive

nothing recognizable except the blood

none of us wanted to say we were “with” him
when the news          trickled          in
local in the first days
                                                            then the smell of it


how the hand                    on the revolver
was his          and hungry
and the shots

would not be undone