[Erik Olson]

Dark Quatrain

The chamber’s mouth turns things around,
six shots, six echoed blasts rebound
to balance out each last affront
against ourselves. We seem to hunt;

foregoing words, our shots resound.
The chamber’s mouth turns things around,
tongue-hammering hollow points, a ton
till justice is seen to be done.

The Wild West turned into law,
on any thief, a man may draw,
the chamber’s mouth turns things around,
the loser’s voice is all but drowned.

The tension on the schoolboy heightens
until his trigger finger tightens
and bully falls dead on the ground,
the chamber’s mouth turned things around.

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