Spaghetti Western Poem by Christopher J. Grasso

Spurs reverb along the empty desert plain and stop right above view
Vultures circling are the only witnesses of a noon showdown which is quite overdue
The winds a whispering partner, the tumbleweed moves past
And eyes stung with sweat and sun peer through the souls of men
A few bullets missing from each bandoleer were goodnight kisses
For all good, bad and ugly men with unsentimental hammers cocked
The crackled hand readies, primed to draw. Fingers twitch. Eyes stare. Silence.

The draw.