The point of a gun is what

you stab with it. The point

of a gun is that literally

no place is safe. The mouth

of a person is not the point

of a gun. The point of a gun

is the peak of a mountain,

blown off. The mouth

of a knife is what it says

“cut” with. The point

of a knife is to slather.

The hilt of the knife

is made of bone, &

the handle of the gun

is pearl. The point of the pearl

is to adorn. The point of a face

is two teeth, to alarm,

to mouth the words “stop”

or “go” into the maw

of permissions. The gun

is the point of this exercise.

The point of a weapon

is where its face goes.

The mouth of a person

is where the bullets go to stop,

where face becomes history,

where a gun becomes

itself, a knife itself. The point

of a person is not enough.

The point is that no where is safe.