Turok how I brandish in retirement homes, sand off a few dinosaur noses
Here on council premises banishing grannies
Help to dust form these old bagged bones
Go through them like covid, dead before Bovril’s done
Standoff at reception resolved quick elbow hits like a brick
Clock-ticking everyone has a bum ticker
Flick through first victim’s pockets; discard tissues, lozenges, receipts, two dollars and a lost locket they intended to return to Mr Coffey’s bedside locker
Where is she? Got her.
Pocket a laminated keycard
Pop open doors hard kicks would stove, retarding plywood.
Walk in looking debonair, slicked back hair, authoritative air
Looking down rows of rocking chairs, shocking mops of purple hair
They wonder whose heir I am, as I planned
From my vantage inflicting maximum damage
Advantage man has over an ant in open plan combat
I aim, fish in this barrel quarrel about the news, requiring marrow
They rode time’s arrow to its straw man
Past nuke-riding Reagan, fell short age of rayguns
Giving them glorious pagan death, I sense Pan here from rampant panic
Overturned trays clattering against lino, screaming reaches impressive hyena high notes
Some elapse on the spot, others relapse into hysterics, most clasp hands in prayer
At my gunclap first wave collapses like tsunami-racked statues.
Retirement first part of dying, look how life-tired they are
Most not even crying, crying out for release from ailment and disease
A nurse surprised as anyone tries chiding me
Glides across reception desk knocking biros
Charges me, tries prying away my gun which I wrestle away
Quickattack dispatch her violently
Vanish a panicked septuagenarian
Vanquishing long-languishing anguisheds, offering last chance Valhalla.
Alchemisland 
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