Black
stallion straddling
Complexion
to match
He rode
into the country
Only a
gun and the clothes on his back
Eyes
glaring as the town’s people stared
But a
gaze from this stranger
Negated
any contest they dared.
A
question to the shoe maker
He
signaled to the saloon
Head
straight; eyes fixed
As he
steadily rode on
Undertaker
opens shop
Preparing
for the coming graves
Preacher
man clasps his bible
Begins
to say his prayers
Reaching
his destination
He
leaves his horse untied
Made
his way through the doors
Seemingly
hurt, his limp implied.
The
unknown figure enters
Casting
a robust shadow of gloom
The
bandsmen in turn stop playing
Sensing
tension in the room
Without
warning or reason a shot fires
Through
the eye of a man at the poker table’s chair
Patrons
scatter; Women screamed
As the
stranger gives chase to another up the stair
Caught
between the corridor
He is
tossed through the window
Impaled
by the shattered glass
And the
wooden gateway below.
While
the stranger exits
Straddling
off into the sunset from whence he came
Impervious
by his actions
Retribution
was his name.
Olsfred James 2013©
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