Allegory

Shooting for the Moon

They handed me a gun

––dusk, as it happened,
moon misbegotten on
my glass-top table. Sullen,
I aimed––not pointing at anyone,
not blaming the run
of Furies, not looking to shun
repercussions of a percussive gun.
Shards surround, leaves abun-
dant fever the ground. It’s autumn.
I’m mad for a glow minus reflection. 

~ LCMH

[Also featured in the column "Next Line, Please" of The American Scholar: https://theamericanscholar.org/it-was-i/#.XAL4YS8-JjV ]