从左额划到右颌

        即使在睡梦中

        眉头也习惯性地拧着

        带着一股子草莽凶戾

        巡夜的喽啰抱着长矛

        倚在木寨墙边打盹

        寨门半开

        门轴上悬着的风灯油尽灯枯

        只剩一点微弱的火星

        一切都和过去无数个劫掠归来的清晨没什么不同

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