Adam Lanza's Last Crack

An enquirer might ask: Where're the pics

Of the blond curls sticking red to the wall,

The scattered teeth no Tooth Fairy will redeem,

The tiny fingers that found themselves making the sign for peace?

Might ask: And the cameras? Are there tapes of you,

Fifty spangled stars in your eyes,

Strutting like a Senator or Seal

To the staccato of your rounds,

Drowning out the drones of death

By humming the posies and rosies of Peshwar and Radda?

Might ask: O, Dark Knight,

Fusions of olive, khaki, gray, and blue,

Did you,

Stealing pulses to power you own,

Spinning the world your way,

Did you,

Before pulling the final trigger,

Did you

Spit "The fuckin' chickens 've come home to roost?"