What was it like for young Roland Deschain to face his mentor Cort armed only with David? What was it like to battle for mastery, risking exile, using one of “God’s own gunslinger?”
A screech. A flash of sunlight off talons that claw flesh off bone. The answering smack of wood against feathers and bones. And the torrent of a young apprentice’s punches against and old teacher’s face.
Until the words the son of Stephan Deschain battled to hear:
“I yield, Gunslinger”
floating leaves
a hawk snatches a squirrel
off the lawn
the cherry-burst light
of a mountain sunset
a Tanka-Prosaic retelling of a story from Stephen King’s The Dark Tower: the Gunslinger Born
For Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge (Hawk and sunset)
Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform (imagined by Willow_Switches Pat)
Frank J. Tassone 
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