Frigid Sun Poem by Jay Hall

Laid before me was his riddled body.
Hermit crabs scurried to drink from his holes.
Burned powder drifted south over blue sea.

Not a hint of shade to be found on land.
The noon time light reached every speck of isle.
This death would not be joyous nor with band.

Turns out he was an agent sent for me.
There simply could be no other ending.
Ended with a.45 and no glee.

I will roll his corpse into the high tide.
His procession filled with mullet and gars.
Body bobbing on final ocean ride.

Ice cold steel in my hand a red hot gun.
I stand shivering in the Frigid Sun.