8. Weapon of Choice

The Weapon of Choice
The weapon of choice made a hole in my heart
A hole so deep nothing else mattered
My point of view, my memories
And all that was ever mine scattered
I didn’t guess the weapon
Even in all of my best fears
Of fever or falling or flood or fire
A siren’s cry in my ear
Late in the evening, a mockingbird’s call
Knock at the door, step in the hall
Late in the morning, no sound at all
The world too small
I never expected to know a weapon
As unforgiving or as true
As the one that left a hole in my heart
Only passing through
Late in the evening, the ringing phone
My mother’s voice and a dial tone
Late in the morning, no sound at all
The world too small
The weapon of choice made a hole in my heart
A hole so deep nothing else mattered
My point of view, my memories
And all that was ever mine scattered free
Remember me