May 26, 2010
-
Wiliam Tell
Stood to face me in the dark,
an apple on his head,
and begged a warning
from my small-barreled pistol lips.
A bullet in my teeth
I clentched
the trigger
wrapped around my chest.
A shot,
a spatter
was all for show,
rounds blank as my face.
I turned,
a trickle,
then on his knees
he fell there in my place.
