The Revolver.

Who will go next?
The revolver moved round around the huts on my fertile face.
Who will go next? The revolver frowned.
Many down already, less fewer more to go.
The revolutionalist was a man of God. Yes! A man of god.
He had the sword of worship and the breastplate of civilisation
Which have both been strange words to us for ages.

You! You shall go!
O Holy mother of Jesus, he cried
Teach me to handle these unreached.
Take off the thatch for light to go in;
After all my first promise to them was civilisation.
The revolver blew the thatch, and there was light
Piercing light on the faces of our fore-gods.