A Job to Do
There was a haze of moisture in the refracted
Light of the streetlamps. I drew a deep breath,
Released it. I took up the noose. My job lay
Before me. It was 4 a.m., a good morning for
A hanging.
Bill Tope is retired, and lives just outside St. Louis, Mo., on the east side of the Mississippi, and has been writing for about a year.
Chantarelle's Notebook 