They peered over the hilltop,
little boys, who’d heard
their father’s whispers.
Below, the tent of Lamech,
a large tent, but everything
was large about Lamech,
body and bulge,
humping and grumping,
sword and flock.

They sang louder,
those little boys,
when Lamech’s mighty voice
cried filth through the valley
at the height of his lust.
Those little boys
should have stopped
their taunting rhyme
when passion was spent
and silence returned.

………………………..

He patted the long knife
against his naked flank,
rolled the sweat-drenched
body of naked Zillah
from the soft sheets of her bed,
and like a cunning serpent
slithered under the tent-cloth.

On hands and feet
he crept behind the tents
of Jabal, Jubal and Tubal-Cain,
and flung himself
upon the little boys
before they knew it.

They stiffened with fear
when Lamech cried out again,
not so different from the yells
that had risen from the valley
when they chanted their taunting song.

One hand caught a little boy,
the other plunged the knife
into a mouth still open with
either taunt or terror.

He left the knife there
and scooped the boy
in the cups of his hands
above his grinning face.
Swirling his trunk on
stallion-prancing legs,
he danced between
the taut ropes
of the tents,
never tripped over them,
as if the dripping blood
had suddenly cleared
the torpid drunkenness
from his head.

Between the beds of
Adah and Zillah
he threw the little body.
Numb with terror
they crept away
into the darkest
recesses of the tent,
covering their eyes
with bejewelled hands,
then their ears,
when Lamech bellowed:
Adah and Zillah,
listen to me!
Wives of Lamech,
hear my words.
I have killed a man
for wounding me,
and now a young man
for injuring me.
If Cain is avenged
seven times,
then Lamech
seventy-seven times.

…………………………….

Outside,
a young father,
guarding the tents
against marauders,
wept,
and raised his sword
in a white-knuckled fist.