The Barn

Almost a place of nightmares
A setting for short fiction
-- We ascended to the hayloft,
stepped long up dusty stairs,
gripping a longhorn's skull
Far above the horse stalls and
shit shovels, past the chained-up
dogs and schoolhouse ruins
Where a boy could stomp a heavy heel
on sturdy woodplanks, lean, unchecked,
over ledges and dangle from rafters
Where the old world ran wild

We hung that skull on a nail
above the double doors
leading to sky and long-haired horizon
-- a sunbleached monument to ferocity
And danced some inspired barbaric dance
on haybales

to be
interrupted only by a stiff-necked
ghoul -- leftover villian from the
silent era -- flashlight to chin
groaning
creeping slow up the stairs