Beautiful

 

I marched a long while
Near the edge of town,
Looking out, having no
Place to go and no reason to
Stay.  I checked my weapons --
Getting dark as it was and night
Was when it could be --

Things coming down from the
Mountain or up from the desert
Sand with teeth gleaming and
A hunger we couldn’t understand,
When someone as used up as I
Would be sent to walk and watch
And stop it if he could, but if

Not, appease its hunger for
A while.  I lit a Camel and
Drew the heavy smoke into
My lungs.  This night I could
Feel it coming – not for
Me in particular but I would
Be in its way.  “Beautiful,

Beautiful,” I hummed, marching
Along, swerving from dour
Thoughts. I sought her out and
After a short time wanted to
Have her mine, thinking that
One true thing and thought
Would remind me wherever

I stopped to lean steadily on
Her beauty -- shying away always
From how she’d changed, her
Sickness ravaging.  I could
See her as she was, “beautiful
“Beautiful,” under my breath
Breathing out fire.  I heard

Their boots and the clank of
Their gear.  I saw their gleaming
Teeth and smiles.  I held my
Rifle in my left hand.  They came,
Knowing we had no steadfastness. 
Having lost my own,  I drew my
Colt and pulled the hammer back.