• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 11

Boot Hill

I crouch, prickly pear
covering my back.
I can't keep running;
a last stand against their
guns is better than the grip
of the hangman's noose.

It'll take a while for the gang
to find me in this cemetery
on the border with Mexico.
I'll be ready for them, pistol
pouched beneath the poncho.
I will die with my boots on.