ghastly silence crept in
like high tide in spring. flooding. subduing.
over echoes of playful banter. one, two, buckle my shhh---
dread and fear danced blissfully in the throats of ashen’s audience
panic clamored mercilessly in the womb’s of deadened nurturers
mommy, is that gun real?
sleek ebony limbs
glisten majestically in outstretched arms. taunting. preying.
betwixt young and old. eeny, meeny, miny…moe!
agony’s joy erupts in thunderous applause
ire and bliss entwine amidst waning cries for mercy
mommy, you’ve got ketchup all over your shirt.