THE POLICE REPORT WILL BE WRITTEN BY THE VICTORS OR WHOEVER BLEEDS OUT LAST
We stalk the halls.
We knock a door.
History unlatches.
We rush the room.
It pulls a gun—
a scuffle for control.
Shots ring, scatter, spray.
We brace for pain.
Wipe blood to see
the damage done
and wait to see
who walks away.
Aaron Sandberg needs a tourniquet and a shot of bourbon. He’s appeared or is forthcoming in Asimov’s, No Contact, I-70 Review, Alien Magazine, The Shore, Plainsongs, West Trade Review, The Offing, Sporklet, Right Hand Pointing, Halfway Down the Stairs, and elsewhere. A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, you can see him—and his poetry posts—on Instagram @aarondsandberg. He lives in the Divided States of America.