TWO THINGS
by Brigid Durhamfrom Home on the Range
Two things move under night skythe thing that came to kill, and I
He, released from prison to roamand I, peaceably headed to home
He carries a knife and drug addled senseseeing just prey, without defense
I detect movement, intuitive fearand put my hand to pistol near
Worried, alone in that gloomy blightabove the fear, I prepare to fight
He hears the click of a chambered roundfleeing quickly to hunt safer ground
No predator dares go hunting for mefor I am armed, that makes me free
I detect movement, intuitive fearand put my hand to pistol near
Worried, alone in that gloomy blightabove the fear, I prepare to fight
He hears the click of a chambered roundfleeing quickly to hunt safer ground
No predator dares go hunting for mefor I am armed, that makes me free
I holster my pistol and slowly stand downheading towards home in a dark, sleeping town
For there are two things that will not diemy right to carry, and this night, I
For there are two things that will not diemy right to carry, and this night, I
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