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He Died Game
| Open Poetry #13 |
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He Died Game |
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John Yaws Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860Texas 
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I rode into Yuma, a hundred and ten in the shade. A man had broke prison, and hunting men down was my trade- I was a drifter, with wanderlust since I was born- A friend of Al Sieber, I’d scouted ‘long side of Tom Horn. The warden said Mason had nearly a seven day start- He had desert savvy, and also was coyote smart. His trail headed South, to a land that was hotter than flame, To the land of the Yaquis, who made the old Devil look tame. How many bodies lay covered by that shifting sand? How many tough men had gone there to play out their hand? How many desert parched souls had perished of thirst- If I don’t come back, I know I will not be the first. Three days South of Yuma, my horses are starting to tire- I’m still cutting sign, and the sun is still hotter than fire... Mason is canny, he knows where the water is found- I’d give fifty dollars if I only knew where he’s bound. I saw a smoke to the west as I saddled my mount- A sure sign of Yaquis, that’s one threat I dare not discount. The wolves of Sonora, no mercy or pity have they... I know they are coming, wild jackals now scenting their prey. They caught me a nooning, they gut shot my pack horse and mount- The buzzards are circling, by now they’re too many to count. My ammo is low, and so far I have only killed three... I have twenty rounds, but I’m saving the last one for me. If you find my bones down here in the sage brush and sand- My back to the wall, and a hot forty-four in my hand... Bury me deep, and, Mister, if it’s all the same- Carve me a marker, with only three words, “He died game”. |
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| © Copyright 2001 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Embers_Before_God Member
since 2001-03-06
Posts 101USA |
I enjoyed this very much...thanks for sharing it...Embers |
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