killers dream of love, my father dreamed of guns
Gideon Ellant Reiter

when the killer comes crying
toxic cinnabar staining
knuckles turned white from
cleaving to the hilt of the
knife not in malice but
in shock        in fear
i bring his face like
a kaleidoscope flashing
with conquest and bloodguilt
to my thighs and tell him
sing me a song        beat your chest

my father dreamed
of empty golden hills
vascularized with valleys
overflowing with milk and honey
pumping life into verdant olive trees
fruiting and sustaining the people
who loved the land    with their rifles

my father dreamed of
new ways to love the land
new guns to embrace it
he filled up notebooks
with crude sketches of affection
he scribed dissertations of his devotion 
a love to defend        him from solitude

the dreams of a killer are haunted
not by the souls of their victims
but by wretched gods who forgive
by acquitting judges    pardoning presidents
vile lovers who look the
maimer in the eye and whisper 
i know you are in pain

and fathers dream of love
of babies    and guns

Gideon Ellant Reiter (PZ '26)