Brett Gordon, Author, Random Acts

current high bid $30

I am a fan of Supernatural and a poet. I’m offering a poem from the point of view of an object from the show in the following style:

The Colt

I first found myself
in the hand of Samuel Colt.
I in his left, a bourbon glass
in his right.

Born to be a hunter’s
blessing–the gun that can kill
anything. And I did. I wonder
how he did it–made me different
from the rest of my kind.

Once, I saw myself in a shattered
mirror on the floor of an
abandoned house in Boise, and I looked
good: long, silver barrel, folding
trigger at attention, hammer thumbed
back. Samuel gripped my wooden handle,
carved pentagram pressing palm.

He squinted, knowing he could
not see the hellhound, wet growls from
the north corner of the house gave away
its position. Hunter reflex, hammer loose,
trigger squeeze. My bullet hits the mark–
a yelp, a body drop, send the hellhound
back to hell.

I’ve killed demons, wendigo, vampires. I’ve
been on the side of good in the hands
of hunters, but Samuel saw me as a curse.
Resentment at the responsibility pressing down.
The Truth?
I’m only as good as the man
holding me.

What object would you like to hear from in a poem?

I’m offering one poem for an opening bid of $15.

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