Hunt-ed.

A Poem by Eccentric

Claret, coagulated blood
Shifting through the snow
Ridged shadowy trees
Whispering violently
Is this the end?
Are you dying?

Staring up at marbled,
Chilling clouds, scudding across
The sky like so many careful
Thoughts and visions (and memories, and)—
Am I the ending?
Are you my death?

Eyes open wide
Shuddering nerves
Grasping fingers
Dusting scattering bones
Was he going to die here?
Was this the end of it?

His gun, out of reach
Smiled metallically
Taunting his last
Vain effort.
I won’t die here.
This won’t be the end for me.

I won’t allow it.