The Shotgun Speaks
by Carrie Rudzinski
For the man who told me “I’m going to be a father soon. Thank God it’s going to be a boy. If it was a girl, I’d have to buy me a shotgun and shoot whoever she brought home.”
THE SHOTGUN SPEAKS
You, sir, are my favorite kind of my beast: the hunter who has become a cannibal. The one who knows it is so much easier to hunt what you have always been, that flesh is just flesh as long as it runs. Tell me, what does your daughter smell like? Does she love as hard as she bites? Do the catcalls now stick in your throat? Do you dream of the women who’ve swallowed you whole? What do you fear the most: the mirrors of men she will bring home or the constant reminder of the daughters you’ve stalked? Are you still excited by the dark? The burst, the carcass, purpled thighs: My darling, where have your hands been? What weapons would you plant in a son?
