Poetry June 2004 ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

Squirt Gun

By Robert Morgan

Hear the author read this poem (in RealAudio)

The orange see-through plastic makes
the gun at first appear red-hot.
But water in the grip is cool
and sloshes when you raise to aim.
The trigger slides the cylinder
and shoots a needle clear as light
across the porch to break as mist.
The gun is fun because it shoots
clear piss. You point and pee on leaves,
on ants, on flowers yards away.
You spray the sun and make rainbows
that melt away in instant rain.
You sprinkle dust along a step
and scare the cat again and hit
a June bug like a Messerschmidt.
And when the gun is almost dry
you place the barrel between your lips
and close your eyes and fire a sip.