The Black Hat

First there will be a shooting rampage
in Alabama,
shortly thereafter in Germany,
after that there will be men oiling instruments
in their garages and crawlspaces,

whatever tunnels of flesh they can
carve out inside themselves,
moving plaque and cholesterol to the side
as though clearing a space
for a woman to sit down, a surprise guest

you would like everyone to know you
are entertaining, but ought to be content
with the truth that she is there.

One person will be killed on the highway
randomly, some others will be shot
because they were waiting on their porch
for something to happen,

everyone else should have known they had
it coming. The grass in the yard tipping
over in a breeze, pea stone driveway
crumbling under tires, azaleas pink

in this early spring. In ten minutes
the dog will stop barking, a rabbit
will move finally, and the preacher
at the door will take off his black hat

before stepping in through the door.