Terror

[ritwiksadhu33]

Terror

You're just afraid is all,

that between the lines
of flapping white linens 
hung to dry
a noon sun asserts a light
immune to reproach.

I see you squinting. 

What you gonna do
now that black is bulletproof 
and ricochets sound
all around you?

Get the bourbon
from the gun closet
and pour it on the wounds?

This is strongly political for me - I like the nuances and implications: its just that the explicit imagery (white linen blocking sunlight, black being bulletproof, ricochets hurting, bourbon and gun southern gentleman stereotype) feels a bit too direct to me - as if the poem is laying down its secrets too easily. Then again, whether something is "too direct" is completely dependent on the perspective, and this poem is definitely not written with aesthetics as the only or overarching concern, so saying what it wants to say flat out is a reasonable thing to do, I suppose.