My eyes dart away from the T.V.

Towards the lone painting on the wall.

It hangs with a tilt

Like a hat on a coat rack.


Jesse James was killed

With his feet on a chair

Dusting a picture on the wall,

Betrayed by his companion.


Legendary in the West

But falsely praised.

His outlaw gang

Did the devil's work.


A former Confederate guerrilla,

A notorious thief,

A ruthless killer.

Yet admired as a celebrity.


Shot from behind,

The bullet pierced his skull

Like a knife through butter.

His body fell to the ground.


The killer, Robert Ford,

Greedily pulled the trigger.

Ever defined by his treachery,

Like the kiss of Judas.


Ford's own life soon cut short

By a double barreled shotgun,

In the hands of a James supporter,

Who faced no charges.