My Henchmen
       

My henchmen are fat and ugly.
They have short hard names.
If I want to hurt you, they do.

I get the best lines. They get
grunts, punches. But if
blows are instruments,

their bruises are music,
their scars are finery
they can walk inside.

Stupid heroes. You don't
see them after you win,
walking the street like

any other guys. You think
the exchange is evil
for good. You wouldn't

understand the silence
in their small dark rooms
at night, the wild
moths at the window.

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Copyright © 2017 Maria Hummel All rights reserved
from Green Mountains Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission