I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

I tell my son I’m proud of you
and he’s like why, because I’m alive
I nervously laugh even though
my heart aches over what he said
Why does America like to play
Russian roulette with its children
Why can’t I have a normal conversation with
my kid over too much screen time
and reminding him to brush his teeth
instead of conversation over what
he should do in a mass shooting