december 4th roulette
every year i step out to the firing squad. they don't want to hit me. they're assassins trained to miss. but we're in a stone courtyard. and physics exist
i'm happy to face the bullet. rather than to be caught by surprise. death respectfully shakes my hand after each miss her bony claw of reassurance with a cold string attached
in the safety of my confinement in between my dates with bullet roulette i wonder how i've made such morbid allies and landed in the graces of lightning strikes.
Kate K Milo 12/03/2017











