The fatal finger of black
is always pointing and
his pointing is as deadly as
a loaded and sighted gun.
There is no fine and grand reason,
nor any rime that could fathom,
his sure pointed and absolute choice
of who will be and who will be gone.
And his finger is an instant, like
a flash from light to black,
or his pointing is a subtle change
from light to grey and then to dark.
But be assured that his finger
never misses its certain and honest mark,
as he writes each name in capitals
upon his cold and lifeless heart.