o dear! A stray, wayward, lost bullet
peeked through the window. It didn’t
know what it was doing, it only felt
velocity. It knew it was a tool,
it had a telos. If it’s good enough
for Aristotle then it’s morally true.
The bullet tapped her on the shoulder,
mistaking her for someone who deserved
ire. Are you supposed to be here?
asked the bullet, as if the bullet was
supposed to approach a child,
as if the bullet had any right
to an audience with her. But she
did not speak bullet. Like any child
she did not know what a bullet meant.
A bullet knows what a bullet means.
Bullet didn’t wait long enough
for an answer. There’s never an answer
to bullet. Not one that isn’t a bullet.
Not one ends the war.
Not unless she’s given time to speak.
Only if the man with the gun is willing
to listen. Even the willing know telos
from efficient cause. She’s not
old enough to know to duck. Bullet pretends
her silence is an insult. Bullet’s used
to being used for this. Bullet says
it can live with what it’s done,
made an angel. Bullet’s good at metaphor
+ spin. You will believe it yourself,
that the toddler was a lady, the soldiers
mere children, incapable of a bullet’s sin. 

Joey Gould, who is Sundress Academy for the Arts Spring 2024 Writer in Residence, wrote The Acute Avian Heart (2019, Lily Poetry Review) & Penitent > Arbiter (2022, Lily Poetry Review), while their recent work has appeared in Meow Meow Pow Pow, Miniskirt Magazine, & beestung. They also serve as Poetry Editor for Drunk Monkeys. Joey is grateful to Erin Elizabeth Smith & Sundress for their support of this vital work.