The Tale of Hsu Jiang
the sun burned hotter
than kuafu the giant.
a crow flew overhead.
hemp paper crisp with dried blood
zachariah smith
wanted dead or alive
five hundred dollars
for Shoshone dead.
shoving the bounty letter
down deep into his duster.
the crow cawed,
flying east with the wind.
riding hou yahn into reno.
saloons and brothels greeted him.
piano music filtered through batwing doors.
courtesans lifted their skirts.
he stared ahead
while a crow circled overhead.
he dismounted; boots kicked up dust.
he entered a brothelā
rotgut whiskey pools
on the floorboards.
pungent liquor burned his nose.
striding in, finding
that demon drinking
his fill.
drawing his revolver
he firedāmissedā
hitting the wall,
splintering wood.
zachariah stood,
towering over him,
a giant like kuafu.
with shaking hands he said, "Diu."
zachariah charged like a snarling bear.
stumbling back,
he pulled the triggerā
crack. crack. crack. click.
the giants momentum continued.
til he fell on him, cracking ribs,
stealing wind.
crawling out, ragged breaths.
he stood with shaking knees.
not today.
he stumbled out,
collapsing to the ground.
a fool like kuafu:
chasing the sun
to die of thirst.
