A Winter Hunt, The Bounty
Hot blood; stark rivulets,
Hands shaking, my body leans against the tree,
Pierced by ringing, I hear nothing above the pain,
Sulfur smothers me,
Worn leather boots crunch the snow under my weight,
The silver of the pistol in my hand catches the fading sunlight,
Nearby; Close, I hear him load his carbine,
Nothing has prepared me to survive-
Except a life of suffering.
Mother would be proud of what she wrought
Father would quietly carry his shame in a pocket,
I buried my husband years ago-- He had no feelings to worry over.
Crass curses and threats follow my final shot,
The smoke burns my watery eyes
Finally, there is a stillness that I can almost taste,
Even the wind slows to nose about.
My Colt slides into the leather cradle,
The only salvation left to me
His blood-stained hand lies still before me,
Nestled in the fresh snow-- he can’t hurt me again.