Six By Two Or Less
Three faces, indecipherable,
on front of three heads,
each atop a brilliant white spectre,
held sway over all before them.
We all obeyed in silence
their every instruction
issued in silence.
Light turned to partial dark.
The withered old man, guarded
like dying treasure, but treasure,
crawled through the night;
cut off clean below the knees,
he dragged nothing behind him.
A gang of eyes, mostly intact,
but some shredded,
or bruised, swollen and nearly closed,
drifted into slumber
and slowly back out,
and did so for much of the night.
Partial darkness gave way to light
and the count was recorded,
sixty-seven bandits
neatly packed like missiles.
We stepped out into the morning,
unscathed and untroubled,
but none of us could know
what would be tonight,
it would be another night.
17th September 2018
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2018
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