POETRY
Unsafe by Joe Taleroski

flashquake, Spring 2006, Vol. 5, Iss. 3

pistol.
Loaded.
Cool, heavy,
the Devil's own prick.
Doesn't fit the hand as a human thing
would.

Level, brace.
Push right pull left.
Align sights.
Squeeze soft, like you'd squeeze a
newborn's finger.

The bang should surprise you.
Let it.
Savor the warmth at your knuckles,
the ache in the web of your thumb.

The round spins true,
spreads its razor-edged petals:
the national flower blooms.

Joe Taleroski's first published story appeared in a local paper the month before it went under. Undaunted, he has since written poems, book reviews, essays, and the occasional short play. At the end of the long hard day he crashes in central Ohio and dreams his homesick dreams of Pennsylvania.

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