In the mornings he went hunting,
perched in tree branches
to target a village chief
And what does he do now
this man who went hunting
for men he learned to hunt
as though they were not men
when there are no more men
to hunt?
And what meaning does it give
to this man now to say
as he once said to himself
sliding a round
into the polished chamber,
breathing the fume
of gun oil, cordite
and precision,
“One bullet, one kill”?