After Larry McMurtry’s Streets of Laredo
By Jack Rafferty
when the last of the bison were slaughtered
the hides were piled thousands high
in anticipation to be sold
but prices crashed, and the hides were left to rot
the ropes that held the hides frayed
and were chewed by vermin
the old flesh scattered
dispersed to become the land
then the crows came
thousands of them
their harsh voices filled the air
for thirty miles
people built a town
if it could be called that
upon the foundation of old rot
small and ragged
they would bury their dead
without care or ceremony
by a lone mesquite tree
in the sandhills
one day
a massive hog arrived
it exhumed the graves
and devoured three bodies
the locals, appalled by this beast
gathered their guns
they fired into its matted fur
and to their horror it did not falter
it did not die
nor did it stop feasting on the bodies
at its slow, methodical pace
silent except for the gnashing
it ate its fill unbothered by the bullets
and trudged into the night
like some unholy spirit
bloody and fattened on dead flesh
a month later an ox killed a mule skinner
the hog returned
accompanied by crows
bloated herald of decay
the crows attended to it
like some fat monarch
plucking ticks from its rank flesh
the people called it Devil Pig
people soon began to believe
that when the hog departed
it walked into Hell
through a tunnel in the riverbank
when it left
the crows remained
the cacophony of their collective voice
drove people to madness
the crows stayed as envoys
a reminder to those occupying
this land born from death
that death is the only true warden here
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