Double-Aught Wrought 

Any shotgun’s got a certain heft to it, 

and by ‘heft’ I do not necessarily 

   mean weight. 

No caliber or gauge 

of heft held in hand 

compared to that 

of each lead-laden shell 

as you there feed the gaping maw 

of its hollowed magazine. 

 

And here the day has come 

wherein my father’s decided to 

bequeath his prized shotgun to me. 

 

That pregnant moment where 

he begins to ease his grip 

and there transfer said 

   heft unto me.

That precious moment where 

I was meant to return his gaze 

and there see myself 

   reflected within. 

And yet, this day he’s chosen 

to give me his shotgun 

holds a certain decorum of gravitas 

far more significant to him    

   than I. 

 

Indeed, there as he passes 

that gun into my waiting hands, 

his grip is retained for 

a full second or more. 

Yes, this moment of lingered legacy  

is to have been duly noted by me 

far more than its actual passage. 

 

Herein, such recollections emit forth 

as scattershot blasts of woe leaden pellets 

long come to miss their fleeting target. 

That felt recoil at his shoulder 

as he presses gunstock to cheek… 

that versus the lifelong recoil 

of our fraught relationship.

 

Father and son of a gun. 

He as son to his father’s gun. 

His father loaded with alcohol; 

his shotgun loaded with double-aught. 

He gunshot and liquor besot  

there to release lethal blast 

unto she both wife and mother. 

 

My father there as mere boy, 

sitting upon his own father’s lap, 

with his face a bawl full of tears,  

whilst that of his weaker grip 

wraps round the barrel of a gun. 

 

One man and one boy, 

each to one side a virulent coin— 

that which now drunken 

flips a clatter down to the floor. 

And there it spins… 

   it spins… and it spins.  

Seemingly so, one 

twelve-gauge enraged 

liquor-laden lifetime 

unto another.

 

Up to this moment 

where my father now places 

his shotgun into my hands, 

full knowing that there 

will come a moment 

when he’ll be forced 

   to let it go. 

 

Ó 2023 Jack David Hubbell