by Jonathan Tennis

My window is round.
Partially obstructed,
By the piece of metal.
That helps me line up,
To place pieces of metal.
Through an object,
That looks like a human being,
But I identify as a threat.
Some threats pee sitting down.
Others standing up.
Threats wear all different clothes.

But I’ve been made to think about it,
Like back in basic training.
Charlie—the green plastic man on the range,
That helped me prepare,
To look through my window upon the world.