shadows dance on the moon-drenched trees
© By Rod (AMPAW@aol.com)
spades clink flinty sparks
silhouettes sweat and curse
and laugh hollowly in the presence
of the grinning obscenity
none dares acknowledge for fear
a sudden twitch or spasmodic jerk
will dissolve the scant resolve each has
to bury this terrible thing they've done
and will on the morrow speak not
will with downcast eyes walk
and wonder who it was they were
this night and how it was
they could have done this
to one with whom they had
this day worked and tonight partied
and last fall deer hunted
an odor lifts as from a sewer
cleaves
no one sees the pale horse
walking soundlessly up the incline
stands for a moment on the rise
disappears
