Poetic Interpretation: Firehorse, “Young”


Take Aim, Noriega

If regrets were like pellets packed into a barrel,

My aim would sharpen as my heart swelled—

The tears to tear a hole in the target,

An end brought to bear from a trigger,

With the air cleared in a crash of smoke.


In truth, the shots we took solved nothing;

We were so young we couldn’t steady the sight.

So now I strain to make the music set it right,

For the hunt to find a harmony in amnesia,

And the night to bring the cool of anonymity.