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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Western · #2217017
An unruly mob in Nevada takes action.
A ragged hobo ran in,
cried to sheriff Coffee,
“They are going to
spring prisoner Hardy!”
“I heard them talking at
the Silver Mine Saloon!”

They were ragged gang,
unkempt, dust covered.
They were vigilante
justice one August day,
simmering as city mob
the want to sidestep
justice, to take the law
into their own hands.
Even Mary Jane, the
sheriff’s daughter
egged on the unruly
throng of angry men,
feigning forced tears
among beer stench.
She relished her role,
the urging on of hate.

They came en masse,
boots clomping loose
boards, then kicking up
dust, a cloud thick, gray.
They stormed the office,
incapacitated Coffee,
dragged out Hardy.

Young Billy, cowering
under the desk,
remained unharmed.

32 Lines
Writer’s Cramp

—A ragged hobo
—prisoner Hardy
—Mary Jane
—Young Billy
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