the maul understood the man          
the dark putrid space inside him        
where empathy was supposed to be  
      
there was death there        
      
dreams of bosch              
saturn devouring his son                  
mother violence                  
like a tide of red ghosts lapping at toes                  
saying more than words ever could                  
                
the maul knew dark things                  
how it could sate an urge for ill will                  
how it could make quick work                  
of a human skull                  
                
and so                  
one day                  
                
it did                  
                
three of them                  
and at random                  
no pattern, just chaos                  
just pure, violent, blood spattering death                  
a gift of gore to the watchful moon                  
the maul knew what to do                  
                
he casually turned himself over to the police after          
before they even knew what he'd done      
what the maul had wrought            
            
there were three of them
  
a finished work
  
a trinity