After “Peacemaker” by Kari Russell-Pool

 There will be a day when the names of tyrants
 are no longer spoken, not even as threats
 for misbehaving children.
  
 There will be a day when the names of tyrants
 are no longer written, the very letters plucked
 from books as easy as stitches from a sampler.
  
 Their weapons will cease to be primed and polished
 and will rust to a cool verdigris. Their joints
 will grow wild with daisies, and their barrels
 will camber beneath decades of ivy.
  
 Every bullet that was meant to be planted
 and blossom into a corpse will be melted down
 and molded to a key. Each key will be placed
 in the cracked hands of a child, a promise 
 that the doors that had no bread, no gloves,
 no bed will never be locked to them again.