Mack and Stack
Seed of Fear: Jack and Jill
Mack and Stacks went up to the trap,
to stash a pail of cash, slick and packed.
The street was quiet, corners still,
sun hung heavy over the window sill.
Mack held the bag, pockets tight with green,
Stacks right behind, eyes sharp, unseen.
A shadow broke, the door rattled loud,
a flash, a bang, the night turned proud.
Mack hit the ground, crown knocked low,
Stacks stumbled next, nowhere to go.
They both fell fast, fear in the air,
the block held its breath, nothing was there.
The pail was gone, the trap left bare,
echoes of warning hung everywhere.
Mack went first, got hit in the dome,
Stacks went next, it hit his neck—neither made it home.
Copyright ©
Windy Martinez
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