( A poem for Dave Bradley's challenge)

 

If only life were a matrix,

the best moments freeze framed,

caught in the film of an eye,

the heat of one touch,

and all the bullets side-stepped

extracted, taken out

plopped like teeth

on a silver salver;

no gas and air

no gaping gum,

just a vacuum

packed

with all the precious time.

 

In real life the bullets reign,

cold metal comfort

to a busted lip;

home truths roost

like tumours on the tongue

to burst and force their bile.

Bullets bitten are rarely sweet,

swallowed whole,

lie heavy on the soul.

 

And all the heroes

are un-chosen,

ricocheted through life

in the blinking of an eye,

smaller than life

just flesh and blood

prick and they shall bleed

poison and they shall die.