BERETTA by Adriana Parker

Be my Beretta
My Smith & Weston that sounds off so sweetly when I pull its trigger
As ammo runs out of you simultaneously
Bullets full of love that pierce my skin
That bounce off my bones and ring through my soul
Bullets full of unconditionality...
A trigger-happy sadomasochist I was delighted by the idea of your suffering intertwined in mine
My Beretta...
A gun with muzzle like fire when it touched my lips
The taste of gunpowder like acid in my mouth, tingling
Its shell shined metallic when it hit moonlight
Kind of like your eyes when you'd stare into mine
There is more power in your bullets than AKs or M60s

I felt all fourteen calibers...
And I don't know much about guns

Click. Clack. BANG.

Could not finish this poem alive because you put bullets in our brains
A beautiful murder-suicide it was
You left no trace of evidence of us and buried my very existence
So I'm writing these words through a ghost of us or what we used to be or what we are or what we could have been no, what we used to be
I am lonely whilst my rain-washed aura wanders
While the gods fed you a little karma
Reincarnated you with another shooter that had a trigger finger a lot less adept than mine

You were my Beretta
My glimmer of happiness in the daytime
My solace at night
I protected you in the holster on my hips you gripped and swayed against me with
Shots rang out in dark skies
And I caught your bullets with my bare hands rubbed raw from holding on to you for so long
Kneeling at the sound of your beckoning call
I was madly in love with the safety of your violence
Dangerously, even