I am Lee
This is Harvey
That is Oswald
We are brothers
We each took part in the assignation (attempt) of JFK
Lee loaded the bullets
Harvey held the gun
Oswald distracted the car by waving his arms about like a tube man
ruby lined us up an gunned us down
Like a turkey shoot
with a bullet as long as a javelin spear
now us the brothers 3 dead passed in the grey
I turn to lee, say
“What im the hell you do that for?”
Harvey shakes his rattles bones
“Count me out the time it took for us to get down the stairs”
One an two an three an 4 an five an somin an somin an on an on
“Oh oh that seems like not enough time?” Harvey winces, goes over the math like pencil scratch. Oswald hasn’t opened a goddamnt syllable
“What’s that? Cat in your mouth?” Oswald shakes his teeth, Oswald looks like the sun going black
Lee backsmacks him, Oswald’s up in arms, I’m like “settle up! Settle down! Jesus love us” they quiet & go meerkat to an old grandma with cut jorts & a raggedy button up, rosary choking her fingers.
“What’s that? You lost?” The old grandma can’t answer, she’s muttering, got more to say to herself than to us. Then again she ain’t lookin at us, behind us, oh-
There he is, neck bent (what’s left), trying to scrub that cumstained soul of his. old grandma don’t know that, she saw the catholic sun rising over the puritan dust. This wild Country finally turned east where the monstrance held hands aloft. Glory to Jack, the instrument he was.
“What’s that? Our target in prayer?” I can sense Lee is steel wool. Lee don’t like the sound of it, not one bit. Oswald can’t bear to see what he did to a head a state. Oswald’s looking to the corner where a smile with a pitchfork multiplies. These little contingencies, these little waves, these little methods, the confessional is the only coffin left in the world. The only telescope to heaven. The old grandma nods to Oswald “I’m all out of talkin.”she’s buttoned up. She knows somin we don’t know she knows what an old grandma knows. She whispers like she has an audience. She prays like conspiracy. She’s a agent with a earpiece to god. Harvey’s all done up, hes prayin too. I glance at Lee who’s all lust on our target. What’s a president in death? A soul rubbed of numbers, the switchboard disconnected. Into your hands I commend my spirit. I look to the resurrection of the living and the death of the world to come.
I’m lost on ideas.
“What’s that? Your dreaming or your reckoning?” Lee don’t know. Harvey don’t care. Oswald can’t bear. Here am I with the old grandma a secret bearer, here am I with a non head a state. Here am I no mouth no eyes no ears just ecctasies of death day in Dallas.
— dizzzzy turek writes in chicago but is originally from ohio. find writing at: https://newplayexchange.org/users/21756/dizzy-turek & https://stgod.substack.com/ .