— for Orlando, 12 June 2016 DJ, please don't stop the tactical squad from musicing through the room like millions of bullets of sound put some bass in your flee as you watch those around you fall — hate will still live afterward, past these beautiful souls on the ground, but don't let it live in you — love doesn't stalk in with an AR-15 and make us realize that death drops were practice for a life we thought we could escape — but where the exit sign? smoke machine churns — what is bomb, what isn't? oh my sweet America, must we explode for love?

Jonathan May grew up in Zimbabwe as the child of missionaries. A queer writer, he lives and teaches in Memphis, TN, where he uses poetry therapy to help people with eating disorders. His work has appeared in [PANK], Superstition Review, Duende, One, and Rock & Sling. He recently translated the play Dreams by Günter Eich into English. Read more at https://memphisjon.wordpress.com/

Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published weekly by Glass Poetry Press. All contents © the author.