In the Mojave

      for Thom Gunn 

Then one of the bikers
Went at the other―a quick 

Steel flash & a breathless 
Grunt made it clear 

He'd taken the brunt 
Of the blade in his gut 

As a low quiver then 
A scream stalled on the lips 

Of a girl about sixteen 
Sitting at their table 

& the woman by her 
Was barely able 

To hustle her outside 
Before the whole place exploded―

Bottles smashing, shots …
Then it was over 

& sprawled at my feet 
One of the bikers dead 

& the neat bone handle 
Stood in the clot 

Of blood barely seeping 
From the black leather 

Of this shadow twin my 
Once now-fallen brother