Tyler Brown
The Gunfighter

The fraternity of fighters,
reaches across the empty plains.
In sepia taverns, raucous dance halls.

Captain Quicksand
DeHaro, “Death’s Hand”
“Weasel,”  “Nomad”
take their place on the ground,
round crushed gravel and cinder.

Amidst towns, boulders.
A purple mesa, a bloodshot hot sunset.

The peacemaker
The wide stance
The wiggle of fingers
A hushed silence
A quick move
A boot heel slips
A spur spins
Smoke swirls
A chest bleeds
A hat drops
A cry is heard
The clock
Strikes
     12:01

10 Poles >
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