“Robbed and Left”

by Daniel Richards

Across the hot sand

On the hot still air

Bathing in the river

With long dark hair

A snuffy smell seems to dim

The dull tin sky

Picking up Minit Man

With his hands high

A pale peened face

In pealing shards

Listens to the roar

Along the sand stretch of yard

Across the bridge

Heels click on the floor

A silver-plated pistol

The sprung screen door

Behind the house

Shielding his head

The pistol barrel

Two steps ahead

Through the screen of the window

With her arms behind her back

A second quick report

Drip through the cracks

Scrapping up from the bench

His hat tipped back

Same old story

Drip through the cracks