The henchmen used to ride horses,
Rounding down faceless numbers of lackeys
As of yet unavenged. Loyally everything follows a cause
To the ocean. Now they sit in deceased trees. The henchmen
Read poems through megaphones to thugs
And their blue capes, bandanas, caught in the branches.
They are not so expendable or easily defeated.
The villains pay them much better than they do
The minions. It’s a strange occupation
Henchmen, the only real drone.
They do not want to be sidekicks, they want to be underlings.
They need helicopters to do without hierarchy;
The henchmen are henchmen to no one, to oppose heroes
And the subordinate boy wonders.