a gratuitous bequest
at the request of the henchman
in furs
moseying forward with uzis from the colonel
and bemoaning sub saharan internecine
trivialitites, like a solid gold smith & wesson
or virgin watch women
bodyguards of the soul
for the afterlife,
a painful shot to the forehead
a cry for mercy
after crawling from an irrigation pipe

as the sands of time slowly move backward
erasing what is and what was
and the smile on the sphinx at
the thought